How very odd, indeed
by grahamcrackers
Summary: It all started when Oliver's mother and Hermione's father crashed into each other. Now they are to be married, leaving Hermione and Oliver in an odd situation. The soon to be stepsiblings fear that they may have feelings for each other. An OliverHermione
1. Crash, Bam, Whoops! A collision!

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.  
  
REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now)  
  
========= STORY TIME! =========  
  
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It was the end of another school year and Hermione was eager to get home.  
  
Hermione was rushing. "Dad! Hurry up!" she called over her shoulder. Mr. Granger gasped for breath as he tried to keep up with his 13 year old. "Hermione, wait up!" Hermione didn't hear him for she was too far ahead. Mr. Granger panted as he dodged people, jumped over luggage and evaded signs. He saw Hermione just a few feet from him when ---  
  
BAM!!!  
  
Hermione heard the sound of two people colliding. She rushed over and gasped. It was her father, sprawled on the floor next to a light brown haired lady. Her dad groaned. "Daddy!" Hermione jumped to her father's side and helped him up. "Ooh . . ." her dad groaned, rubbing his head. "Herm--- Hermione? Is that you? W—what happened? Ouch." Hermione hugged her father. "You crashed into someone, dad. Are you hurt?" But her father didn't hear her last words. "Oh my goodness! I crashed into someone?" he looked to his left and saw the woman. People gathered around them.  
  
"Oh my!" Mr. Granger rushed to the woman and helped her up. "What on earth h-happened?" she muttered. "I am so sorry. I was in a bit of a rush that I didn't see you." The woman fell back onto the ground. Mr. Granger struggled to get her to sit up. She was a beautiful woman, in her late 40's with light brown hair and pretty green eyes. She was rather plump, and her cheeks were red. Mr. Granger thought it was cute.  
  
Just then, another person ran to the woman. "Mother! Are you hurt?" It was a boy.  
  
But not just *any* boy. Hermione knew that Scottish accent. She glanced up.  
  
Oliver Wood was crouching over the woman who appeared to be his mother, fanning her with his hand. "Mother! Can you hear me?"  
  
Mr. Granger looked at Oliver. "Is she your mother? Oh, I'm terribly sorry. You see I was—"  
  
"Ollie?" the woman grabbed his hand. "W—what happened? Where are we?" Hermione noticed that she had the accent as well. (Duh)  
  
"Mother! Thank goodness, oh mother. This gent," Oliver gestured to Mr. Granger. "Crashed into you." His mother rolled her head to one side and looked at Mr. Granger with weary eyes.  
  
"He's a very handsome man, there." She said. Oliver looked surprised. So did Mr. Granger. Clearly, no one had noticed Hermione.  
  
"Ahem," she spoke up. "My father is very sorry. Is there anything we could do?" Oliver looked at her for the first time since this crazy accident.  
  
He frowned in concentration. "Herm—Hermione? Hermione Granger? Harry and Ron's friend?"  
  
She nodded. "Again, We," she pointed to her father and herself. "Are very sorry. Is there anything we can do?"  
  
"Yes! Yes! Anything at all?" Mr. Granger said frantically. Mrs. Wood still looked glassy-eyed and dazed. Oliver shrugged.  
  
"Uh, I don't know actually," Oliver said. Just then, his mother sat up. (With the help of her son and Mr. Granger)  
  
"Ollie, I think it's about time we had breakfast. . ."  
  
"Lunch, mother. Lunch." He corrected her, pulling her to her feet.  
  
"We'll treat you!" Mr. Granger said quickly. Hermione arched a brow. "We will?"  
  
"Yes, dear." He turned to Oliver. "It's the least we can do." Oliver considered the offer. "Uh, okay. Thanks." Mr. Granger helped Oliver bring his mother into their car waiting for them outside the station.  
  
"Is it alright if we have lunch in muggle London?" he asked Oliver. Oliver shrugged. "Sure."  
  
Mr. Granger settled his mother in the front seat while Hermione and Oliver sat at the back.  
  
"Uh, so, what was your name again, boy?" Mr. Granger asked, looking at Oliver through the rearview mirror.  
  
"Oliver. Wood."  
  
"Ah. And you know my daughter, Hermione?"  
  
"A little." Oliver glanced at Hermione. She was staring out the car window. "I often see her with Harry and Ron in quidditch practices but that's about all."  
  
"And what do you do in quidditch?" Mr. Granger asked, trying to make small conversation.  
  
"I am the—" then Oliver caught himself. "I *was* the captain and keeper of the Gryffindor team."  
  
"Was? What happened?" Mr. Granger asked, making a left turn.  
  
"I graduated." Oliver said simply. Hermione turned to look at Oliver. He sat uncomfortably.  
  
"Have you ever ridden a car before?" Hermione asked. Oliver looked at her. "Uh, no. Just brooms." He said.  
  
"Well, I've never ridden a broom well." Hermione gave him a small smile. He smiled back.  
  
"What's your mother's name? She's awfully pretty." Hermione asked. "Her name is Luella." He answered.  
  
"Luella! What a musical name!" Mr. Granger piped up. Oliver grinned uncomfortably and Hermione giggled. After a few turns, Mr. Granger parked the car . "This is my favorite restaurant. It's Japanese."  
  
Oliver's eyes lit up. "Japanese? I love their cuisine. So does my mom." Hermione's eyebrows rose. "You've eaten Japanese food before?" she asked. Oliver nodded. "Mother likes exotic food. One time, she took me here—muggle London—and we ate Japanese in a small restaurant."  
  
"Was it this one?"  
  
"No. This one is large compared to the one we ate in." They entered and sat down. Luella Wood, Oliver's mother was steady now.  
  
"Oliver dear, where are we?" she asked, taking her son's arm. Oliver patted his mother's hand. "Mr. Granger has offered to treat us for lunch." He explained. Luella Wood looked confused. "Why? Who is Mr. Granger?"  
  
Oliver started to reply, but Mr. Granger cut him off. "I," he said. "Am Mr. Geoffrey Granger. I believe I knocked you down and this lunch is my apology."  
  
Luella Wood stared at Geoffrey Granger with blank eyes. Mr. Granger smiled and offered his arm. Instantly, Luella Wood's eyes lit up and she flashed a toothy grin. "I believe I'm Luella Wood." She said, taking his arm.  
  
Hermione and Oliver gasped in unison. They both saw sparks flying between their parents. "Oliver?" Hermione said, tugging his coat.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Is this going to be an odd day?"  
  
"Oh yeah. Very odd. Very odd indeed."  
  
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Hope you liked that first chapter! I'm so afraid that you won't . . .*sniff* REVIEW . . .if you'd like to. =) 


	2. It isn't the food that's weird

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.  
  
REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now)  
  
========= STORY TIME! =========  
  
Chapter 2 – It isn't the food that's weird (Boys do cry)  
  
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Luella and Geoffrey had been doing most of the talking with the occasional nods from Oliver and the "Oh really" 's from Hermione.  
  
Oliver amused himself by drinking big, rapid gulps of water, while Hermione picked at her food. By the time Hermione decided that she wasn't hungry, Oliver had drunk ten glasses of water.  
  
Luella and Geoffrey were in their own world, talking, gazing at each other, and talking again.  
  
As Oliver gulped down his eleventh glass, he felt like his bladder was going to explode. "Excuse me, I'm going to the—" but he trailed off since no one was listening anyway.  
  
He practically ran to the men's room. Hermione, on the other hand was tired of all this . . .flirting, if you could call it that. She excused herself, not like anyone cared anyway, and went out back to the restaurant's small but beautiful Japanese garden.  
  
On her way there, she bumped into Oliver on his way back to the table. "Where're you going?" he asked. "I'm going to the garden out back." She answered. "Can't stand it there."  
  
Oliver nodded. "You've got that right. I've never seen my mother act like this. May I come with you?" he asked. Hermione nodded. "Why not?"  
  
They walked beside each other—though keeping a fair distance—to the garden. When they reached their destination, neither one of them could contain a sigh of admiration.  
  
It wasn't fancy or anything, but it *did* make them feel as though they were in Japan.  
  
The cherry blossoms danced to the beat of the wind, spraying flowers around the air ever so slightly. Oliver even noticed that there were some fireflies fluttering around.  
  
Hermione and Oliver sat on a bench, admiring the Japanese garden. "Have you ever been to Japan?" Oliver asked suddenly. Hermione shook her head, still tracing the faint glow of the fireflies' light with her eyes. It was a miracle she could see them in the day.  
  
"No. You?"  
  
"No. My dad and I were planning to go one day but . . ." Oliver's voice faltered. Hermione turned to look at him. "What happened?" she asked. "How come your plans didn't work out?"  
  
"Well . . ." Oliver gulped. "My father, he—well he got into an accident and. . ."  
  
Hermione gasped. "Accident? When?" Oliver stared at the sky and began his sorrowful tale.  
  
"It was in my fifth year. It was raining, but not that hard. My father and I were to play quidditch that day in our quidditch pitch." Oliver took a deep breath. His voice quavered. "I—I remember it so well."  
  
``~Flashback~``  
  
Oliver rushed to the living room and found his father sitting on his favorite armchair, reading a book.  
  
"Dad!" Oliver made his way up to his father and shook his shoulder. "Dad you promised!"  
  
Oliver's father, Huston Wood, lowered his book and gave his son a tired look. "Not today, Ollie. It's raining."  
  
But Oliver wouldn't give up. "We planned this a month ago! You're always busy. Today's your free day and you *told* me you'd play quidditch with me. You told me so. I remember!" Oliver held up his broom.  
  
His father sighed. "Maybe another time, son. It looks dangerous." Still, Oliver would not give in. "It's just a little drizzle. It won't kill you dad."  
  
Huston Wood scratched his chin. "Ollie," he started, giving the boy a look of affection but firmness as well. But Oliver stopped him. "You always said a true quidditch man doesn't let rain or snow stop him. You said that."  
  
Huston chuckled, his big belly bouncing slightly. The man looked exactly like Santa Claus, except he didn't have a big white beard. But he did have the bushy white mustache. "Aye," he said, nodding. "You remember what I tell you. Why aren't you ever forgetful like your mother?" They laughed.  
  
"Alright, son. Just because you're my boy." Oliver's eyes lit up as he ran to the closet and pulled out his father's broom.  
  
"Off we go then, Ollie."  
  
As they stepped onto the quidditch pitch, Oliver's father frowned. "Looks like rain." He said, staring at the clouds. Lightning streaked the sky and the thunder boomed twice as loud.  
  
"It's just a little drizzle. It won't kill you." Oliver repeated, seeing the look on his father's face. Huston put on a cheery smile though his eyes betrayed him.  
  
They zipped into the air, and Huston was starting to have fun. Just like his son, Huston Wood loved quidditch. Sometimes, Luella, his wife, would scold Oliver and him for obsessing about quidditch too much.  
  
Oliver and Huston were having the best time since the last time they had the best time (LOL) that they ignored the rain.  
  
In time, the rain got stronger and stronger, and the thunder got louder and louder but neither one of them cared.  
  
Oliver was just about to catch the snitch when he heard a crash. He gasped, his hair standing up.  
  
Oliver, with all thoughts of the snitch forgotten, raced to find his father.  
  
But the sky was so dark, and the rain fierce that it took him some time. He finally found his father lying on the ground next to his broom.  
  
Oliver jumped off his broom, not caring that he broke a few bones doing it, and rushed to his father's side. Huston was motionless. Blood trickled down from his forehead and mingled with the rain.  
  
Oliver's heart skipped a beat as he stared at his unconscious father. "HELP!" he cried, searching desperately for someone on the streets, but the streets were deserted except for a few cats looking for dry shelter.  
  
He could fly his father to St. Mungos, but he didn't know where the hospital was.  
  
"O-Oliver . . ."  
  
Oliver held on to his father's hand, his face wet with the rain and salty tears. "Dad! Don't leave me! It's going to be okay dad," but Oliver didn't quite believe himself.  
  
Huston struggled to get up, but instantly fell back down. His voice was hoarse. "Ollie—it hurts all over . . .I can't see too well—"  
  
"Don't strain yourself, dad. Lay still. You'll be okay, dad, you'll be okay—" Oliver sobbed.  
  
His father brought a shaking hand to his son's face and gave a weak smile. "Don't cry, son. Men don't cry." He said, though his voice wasn't clear. Huston coughed blood. Oliver held on tighter.  
  
"Dad . . .I'm so sorry. I should've listened to you! I should have—"  
  
"Ollie. My lovely Ollie. D-don't blame y-yourself. I had the b-best time with you t-today . . ."  
  
Oliver managed to smile a little, and choked down sobs. Still his tears fell. "Please! Father! Don't go! I promise I'll never play quidditch again! I promise I'll never—" Oliver trailed off due to his heavy heart and huge sobs.  
  
"I'll never play in the rain again . . .I promise, father . . ." His father gave him the most tender smile.  
  
"Never . . ." he coughed blood again. "Never stop p-playing . . .n-never give up—be the b-best you c-can, son—b-be—" His father trailed off, his voice getting weaker. The rain grew stronger still, and the wind thrashed at houses and roofs. Dogs barked and cats shrieked. But Oliver didn't care. He strained to here his father's words.  
  
"I . . .I love you, son—t-tell your mother so too—" Oliver sobbed louder. "NO dad! You'll make it! We'll be able to do this again! Tomorrow we can polish our brooms and—and—"  
  
But Oliver felt Huston gasping for breath. "I love you dad! Please—please don't go! Fight it, dad! You're strong! You're strong—it's just a little drizzle dad! Just a little drizzle! It won't kill you! It won't!" Oliver cried, trying to convince himself.  
  
But the hand of his father on his face fell to the ground. Oliver quickly caught it and pressed the limp hand onto his cheek. "N-no, dad. You can't be gone! Dad! Please! Wake up! Wake up, dad! Please . . ." Oliver's tears fell onto his father's face, mixing with the rain and the blood.  
  
Oliver cried out for help. No one came. The storm rose, and the lighting cackled. "It's just drizzle, dad . . .you're not dead . . ." But he was. Huston Wood was gone. And Oliver could do nothing but lay beside his father in the cold, harsh storm, crying guiltily with a heavy heart.  
  
"I love you too dad."  
  
*  
  
``~END FLASHBACK~``  
  
Oliver was unaware that he clung on to Hermione, sobbing like a child. Hermione patted is back, stroked his hair and whispered comforting words into his ear.  
  
Hermione too, was crying. Oliver sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. Everything was still, except the two people on a bench, crying.  
  
After a while, a long while, Hermione released Oliver. His eyes were red, and so was his nose. He stopped crying, but he was still gulping down sobs.  
  
He looked embarrassed. "I—I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to—"  
  
Hermione cut him off with a wave of her hand. "It's okay, Oliver." She assured him, smiling, though tears ran down her cheeks.  
  
"I feel stupid." Oliver muttered, not looking at her. Hermione put a comforting hand on top of his. "It's good to cry sometimes. It helps a bit." She said. He nodded, sniffing. "I still feel like a baby." He said under his breath. "I have never cried in front of anyone. Much less a girl."  
  
Hermione started to say something when Luella and Geoffrey spotted them. "There you are!" Luella exclaimed, running over to Hermione and Oliver. "We wondered where you two were!"  
  
Then Geoffrey saw the two tear streaked faces. "Good brooms! What have you two been up to?!"  
  
Luella came to notice this for the first time. "Oh my word! Oliver, dear! You're crying! And Hermione! What on earth happened?"  
  
Hermione sniffled. "Uh. . . a squirrel give birth." She lied. Geoffrey and Luella gave her a surprised look.  
  
"Err—yes! It was such a lovely sight. You know, birth of a new life and stuff like that. Miracle of life." Oliver added. Luella and Geoffrey exchanged confused looks.  
  
"Yes." Hermione nodded. "The squirrel was uh. . .female."  
  
Oliver arched a brow and stared at her. Luella laughed. "Well . . . of course, dear. If she gave birth, I suppose she's female."  
  
"Enough of these tears! Wipe your faces and grab your coats. It's getting late." Geoffrey said, trying to cheer the two up.  
  
Oliver and Hermione gave their parents weak smiles and walked into the restaurant.  
  
"Well! I never knew my son was so sensitive." Luella mused. "And I never knew Hermione could tell the difference of a male squirrel to a female squirrel." Geoffrey said.  
  
Luella chuckled.  
  
*  
  
"Well. It was a very good lunch." Geoffrey said. "Thank you."  
  
Luella blushed. "It should be me thanking you, Geoffrey." She said. "So thank you. I had a blast."  
  
Geoffrey and Hermione walked Luella and Oliver to their door. "Uh, Luella?" Geoffrey's confident demeanor (A/N: use of words?) vanished and he looked quite nervous. "Would you like to do this again?"  
  
Luella Wood looked shocked—and then like her birthday had come early. "O-of course, Geoffrey. I'd like that very much."  
  
Oliver and Hermione watched at a distance. Then Oliver turned to Hermione. "Hey, Hermione?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"About a while ago—"  
  
"Don't worry, Ollie. I won't spill the beans on anyone." She giggled, and so did he. (Laughed, not giggled that is. Oliver doesn't giggle. Does he?)  
  
"Well, thank you for uh, listening to me—and not laughing." He gave her a sheepish grin. Hermione couldn't help but smile back.  
  
"Okay. Uh, see you." Hermione extended her hand for Oliver to shake. He took it with a heart-stopping grin.  
  
Just as soon as their hands met, (for the second time) a wave of electric sensation washed over them. It felt good. Very good. Excellent, in fact. Not to mention shocking.  
  
Hermione gasped. Oliver looked stunned.  
  
Then, a smile crept from Oliver's lips as he shook Hermione's hand. "I'm looking forward to it." He said.  
  
Hermione just nodded, quite bewildered. Neither of them let go. Then Hermione smiled too.  
  
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I know this chapter was kind of angsty or something. Maybe there was too much drama. But I'll never know, will I? Unless you review! Bwahahahahahaha! I promise, Oliver and Hermione will get together in the following chapters! I hope you liked this chapter! If you didn't well. . .then you didn't. LOL! =) Thanks to my reviewers!  
  
(I hope I got everyone!)  
  
Suicide-greeting – I give to thee, ice cream!  
  
Diana in Texas – I give to thee, a lollipop!  
  
GeekGoddess1 – I give to thee, chocolates!  
  
Golden wolf 73 – I give to thee, apple pie!  
  
Keaira Malfoy – I give to thee, cinnamon rolls! 


	3. Don't you care about mom anymore?

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.  
  
REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now)  
  
========= REVIEW TIME! =========  
  
+  
  
Thanks to all the reviews! Loved it! (Hope I got everyone)  
  
Ydole3343 – why thank you ever so much! And yes, I will update soon! =)  
  
Slytherinrules85 – LOL! Okay! Here it is! Thanks so much! =)  
  
Blue91 – Thanks so much for that! About you're comments, I can't help but agree that you're right. When I write OW/HG, people comment that I rush it a bit. I have no idea why, though. So, I'll take you're advice and try to develop the plot slowly. The setting in the story is in summertime, as I've written in the first chapter (but maybe it wasn't clear enough). Hermione is 13, as written in the first chapter also, meaning she is in her third year. Um, I think the war doesn't happen until Hermione's fifth year, am I right? I haven't read the fifth book yet (GASP!) so I wouldn't know when the war is. Now about Mrs. Granger—her story is in this chapter, I just didn't get to post it last time, but not to worry because it's here now! (YAY!) And Oliver crying and everything . . .well I just wanted to show a more—err, *sensitive* side of him (if you could call it that). Well that's it, I guess. Thank you SOOOO much for your review. That's what I call a REAL review. Haha! Thanks again for your comments. I hope you like this chapter. =)  
  
Gabrielle Madden-Lovato – Okay, I will write more! Thanks! =)  
  
Golden wolf 73 – ooh! Two cookies! YAY! Haha! Thanks so much! Yum! =)  
  
Stardrops – thanks! =)  
  
Satern Mya – thank you! =)  
  
Flippy4ever – haha! I like your name! You'll know about Hermione's mom in this chappy! I'm sorry I didn't post it sooner! Thank you! Hope you like this chapter! =)  
  
Morgan – YAY! Oliver/Hermione! LOL! Thanks so much for your comment! It feels weird when you see your parents all mushy. . .haha! Thank you! =)  
  
======== Story time! ========  
  
Chapter 3 – Don't you care about mom anymore?  
  
+  
  
Hermione and Her father drove home in silence. Geoffrey tried to strike up a conversation but Hermione would just nod or give one-word answers.  
  
After his fifth try, Geoffrey gave up trying to talk to his daughter and turned on the car radio instead. Hermione sat quietly in the passenger seat, looking straight.  
  
***  
  
"We're home, sweetie." Geoffrey shook Hermione's shoulder gently to wake her. "Mm. . .daddy?"  
  
"Yes, pumpkin?"  
  
"Are we home yet?"  
  
"Uh-huh. Come on. Grandma's waiting for you inside."  
  
Hermione's eyes flew open. "Grandma is here?!" she asked. Geoffrey nodded. Hermione scrambled out of the car and opened the door.  
  
"HERMIONE!" A tall, thin elderly woman rushed out to greet her. "GRANDMA! You came!" Hermione gave her Grandmother a big bear hug. Her Grandmother hugged her back, laughing.  
  
"It's been ages, Grandma!"  
  
"I know, love. And my, you've grown!" Hermione's grandmother twirled her around. "You've grown indeed."  
  
"Hello, Jasmine." Geoffrey stiffly pecked Hermione's grandmother on the cheek. Jasmine's back straightened and she held Hermione's shoulder tightly. "Ah. Hello, Geoffrey." Her tone was curt.  
  
"Grandma, did you bring pictures?" Hermione asked eagerly. Jasmine nodded. "Yes love. They're in the guestroom. Run along and get them, dear."  
  
Hermione ran up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. She zipped open and Grandmother's bag and found a big photo album. She grinned broadly as she brought it back down.  
  
She always loved it when her Grandmother came to visit. Jasmine would tell Hermione about her mother. Hermione would always listen intently, not interrupting.  
  
Her mother Isabelle was career driven, and she never had enough time for Geoffrey and Hermione. She was always working, and hardly ever came to one of her daughter's birthdays.  
  
Isabelle and Geoffrey agreed that a divorce would suit them best, since Isabelle was never there anyway. And Isabelle said that Geoffrey and Hermione were holding her back.  
  
Isabelle would visit, but only once a year since she was a very busy woman.  
  
In her heart, she knew her dad still loved Isabelle, but it was impossible to have a family with her constant business trips, conferences, late night calls and hectic schedule.  
  
"Love, are you alright?" Jasmine was standing in front of Hermione.  
  
"Huh? Oh. Yes, fine, grandma. Just spacing out."  
  
"Give me the photo album, dear." Jasmine took it from her granddaughter and set it down on a wooden table. She opened the album.  
  
"Look at that, dear. It's your mother in Borneo." Jasmine said looking lovingly at the photograph. "It was taken last February."  
  
"What was mom doing in Borneo?" Hermione asked. Her mother had the same bushy brown hair.  
  
"She was in a workshop for dentists." Jasmine replied. "Look at this one. Hey! It's your mom and your cousin Hilda! You remember her, don't you?"  
  
"How could I not?" Hermione giggled. "Where's that?" Jasmine thought for a while. "I think this was in Yugoslavia. You're mother had a seminar there. She stayed for about three weeks."  
  
"Did she have a rest after?"  
  
"No, love. She went straight to Italy for another seminar."  
  
"I didn't know being a dentist was so. . .tiring."  
  
"Well, Hermione, you're mother is a top dentist. She has to keep her reputation up." Jasmine sighed and closed the album. "Let's go help with dinner, dear. It smells like your father burned something." Jasmine got up, straightened her skirt, and went into the kitchen.  
  
Hermione however, stayed and flipped through the photo album. She came across a picture of her mother and her father. She gasped. It was their wedding picture. Her mother looked dazzling in her silk white wedding gown with lace trimming and fresh lilies in her hair. She had a big, genuine smile plastered on her face.  
  
Hermione felt hot tears gathering in the corners of her eyes. Her father, who had his arms around Isabelle, looked happy and content. He had smiling eyes.  
  
Then, Hermione turned the page. Her eyes widened. It was one of Her, Isabelle, and Geoffrey. Hermione was blowing a birthday cake, and her parents were standing on either side of her.  
  
Isabelle had a big purple party hat on, and Geoffrey was holding a balloon that said,  
  
HAPPY FIRST BIRTHDAY, HERMIONE!  
  
Hermione turned to the next page. Her heart fell. It was all pictures of Hermione with either Jasmine, Geoffrey, or her friends at school. She only had one picture of the complete Granger family—and it was of her first birthday.  
  
Her parents looked so happy, so why did they decide to divorce? Jasmine had told her, and so did Geoffrey, but she felt like they had another chance of being one big happy family. Hermione went back to the photo of her first birthday and stared at it.  
  
Her dad walked into the living room then stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes were fixed on the picture Hermione was looking at. He missed Isabelle . . .he missed their family. (Well, if they even had one to begin with) He awkwardly made his way to the couch and sat down beside Hermione, not saying a word.  
  
"Dad?" Hermione's voice was shaky. "How come you gave up?" Geoffrey was taken aback. "Give up, honey?"  
  
"Yes. Gave up on mom. How come you didn't try to live with her lifestyle?" Geoffrey was at a loss for words. "I—I don't know, honey. I don't think we even had a life together. She was always out—"  
  
"How come you didn't go with her? How come you didn't buy a mobile home or something?"  
  
"Hermione, it's not as easy as that. I didn't want you to grow up in a different country every month! You wouldn't have had a normal life."  
  
"It's better than not having a life without Mom!" Hermione shut the book. "Daddy, you love her. Don't you dad?"  
  
Geoffrey couldn't bear to look at his daughter. "Listen, I invited Luella and her son for dinner here Saturday night." He said, changing the subject. "Then we could all go out and have ice-cream and—"  
  
"DAD!" Hermione stood up. "Hello!? You just met her! You bumped into her in the train station! You took her out to lunch as an apology! How could you invite a complete stranger for dinner?"  
  
Geoffrey was surprised at Hermione's sudden outburst. "I got to know Luella when we had lunch and she seems like a nice lady—"  
  
"Don't you feel guilty?!"  
  
"Guilty? Why would I feel guilty?"  
  
Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "I can't believe you're acting the way you do! It was so embarrassing—at the restaurant, all you and Luella ever did was flirt with each other!"  
  
Jasmine rushed out, hearing the commotion. Geoffrey's jaw dropped. "I-I was not! You listen here, young lady—"  
  
"I mean, don't you care about mom anymore? She's been gone for only six years and you go around slobbering all over someone you just met and—"  
  
"Hermione! How dare you speak to me like that! I am your father!" Geoffrey was red-faced and a little flushed, but he sure looked upset.  
  
Hermione ran upstairs and locked herself in her room.  
  
--  
  
20 minutes later. . .  
  
--  
  
Hermione came bounding down the stairs and into the living room where she saw her father watching TV. She plopped down beside him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  
  
"What are you watching, daddy?" she asked in a cheerful manner, as if nothing had happened. Geoffrey had 'confused' written all over his face, but chose to humor Hermione.  
  
"Oprah."  
  
"Oprah? I never knew you liked Oprah."  
  
"I don't."  
  
"So why do you watch it?"  
  
"Is there other things to do?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Then, that's why I'm watching Oprah."  
  
"I want to watch something else."  
  
"Then go to your room. You have a TV there."  
  
"It's broken."  
  
"It isn't."  
  
"It is, daddy."  
  
"We'll take it to the repair shop tomorrow."  
  
"I didn't ask you to."  
  
"Just incase you did."  
  
"But I didn't."  
  
"Hermione, why are we talking about your broken TV?"  
  
"Is there other things to talk about?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Then, that's why we're talking about my broken TV."  
  
Geoffrey clicked the TV off and started at his daughter. "You pay for the repair." He said. Hermione caught an amused tone, but decided to carry on with this ridiculous conversation—it was making both her and her father feel better.  
  
"But I don't have any money." She replied.  
  
"What happened to the money I gave you?"  
  
"Spent it."  
  
"Then that's your problem."  
  
"I'm not paying."  
  
"Then it's not getting fixed anytime soon because I'M not paying."  
  
"I didn't want to watch TV there anyway."  
  
"So why are you making a fuss about it?"  
  
"Because I'm bored."  
  
"Go be bored somewhere else."  
  
"Grandma's asleep."  
  
"So?"  
  
"She's asleep."  
  
"Again, I repeat, so?"  
  
"So what?"  
  
"Exactly. So what?"  
  
"What about so?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"So."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So."  
  
"Hermione!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Why'd you bring up the subject about Jasmine sleeping?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
Geoffrey and Hermione stared at each other.  
  
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!" they both burst out laughing. "Hermione, Hermione, Hermione! You always know how to make my day!" Geoffrey said, gasping for air.  
  
"I love you daddy!" Hermione giggled, hugging Geoffrey. 


	4. Preparations, dinner and embarrassment

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.  
  
REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now) Oh! But I own JASMINE and OAK.  
  
+  
  
Chapter 4 – Preparations, Dinner, and embarrassment  
  
//SATURDAY\\  
  
Morning – 10:00 AM  
  
Hermione jumped out of bed, threw on some clothes and rushed down into the kitchen. She inhaled the sweet scent of pancakes, hot chocolate and fresh fruits.  
  
"Morning, honey." Geoffrey greeted her, setting down a plate of sausages. Jasmine was already at the table. "Good morning, dear." She smiled and Hermione gave her a big hug.  
  
"So, what's with the big spread?" Hermione asked, sitting down next to Jasmine. Geoffrey passed the plate of pancakes to Hermione.  
  
"Your father was just practicing for tonight," Jasmine joked, laughing elegantly. "Tonight?" Hermione asked, sipping her hot chocolate. "Don't tell me you have forgotten, dear?" Jasmine received a blank look from Hermione. "Dinner guests. You have dinner guests coming over. I believe they are—" Jasmine seemed to have forgotten the names.  
  
"Luella and her son." Geoffrey supplied. "Ah yes." Jasmine said. "Thank you." Hermione stiffened. "Oh. Them." Geoffrey cleared his throat, sensing his daughter's anger.  
  
"We're going to the supermarket, so you'll have to watch the house. Can you do it?" Geoffrey asked, changing the subject. Hermione frowned. "Of course I can. I'm 13."  
  
***  
  
Hermione sat down on her favorite chair in the living room, reading. Geoffrey and Jasmine had gone out to buy food for the dinner, but Hermione didn't mind staying home alone.  
  
Then, a sudden thought came to Hermione—what would she wear?  
  
Hermione didn't know WHY she wanted to look good. Jeans and a shirt were fine for her but something made her giddy and excited . . . was it—nah. Couldn't be.  
  
But . . .could it? Did she want to look good for a certain someone? A certain OLIVER maybe? Hermione laughed. No. Certainly not. Not Oliver. Pff. . . Oliver. But somehow, Hermione doubted herself.  
  
``Hermione's POV``  
  
I do NOT like Oliver Wood. He's a whopping four years older than me! He could be like my older brother! Hah. Oliver Wood. Poppycock.  
  
``Normal POV``  
  
And then a mental image of Oliver smiling down at her flashed in her head and it made her heart melt and her knees buckle. But still, Hermione chose to remain stubborn.  
  
"I do not like Oliver Wood. I do not like Oliver Wood. I do not . . ." But then Hermione trailed off, leaving her words hanging in the air. A slow smile crept upon her face.  
  
Afternoon – 3:05 PM  
  
Hermione opened her closet and put her hands on her hips. "What to wear?" she pulled out a long denim skirt with slits up the side, and an off shoulder peasant top with flower embroidery. "This looks promising. But what shoes?"  
  
Hermione let out a loud "Hmm" and grabbed a pair of white slip-ons (?). She smiled, satisfied and went on choosing her accessories. After all, Geoffrey said that it would a grand dinner.  
  
Early Evening – 6:00 PM  
  
Geoffrey and Jasmine arrived, and were already at work in the kitchen. Hermione went down. Greeted them, and then went up again to take a long relaxing bath.  
  
She sprinkled some rose petals into the water and slipped in. "Ah . . ." After this bath—she promised herself—she was going to smell like heaven. And when she stepped out, she proved herself correct yet again. She smelled good.  
  
6:30 PM  
  
"Hermione! Luella and Oliver will be here any minute!" Geoffrey called from downstairs.  
  
"Alright, dad." Hermione changed into her clothes, combed her hair, and gave herself a pep talk.  
  
"You do not like Oliver Wood. You just dressed up since dad said it would be a formal dinner. You will NOT blush or giggle or do anything stupid. Oliv—that person's smile will have NO effect on you. You do NOT like OLIVER WOOD." Hermione smiled, feeling prepared.  
  
"HERMIONE! THEY'RE HERE!"  
  
Almost immediately, Hermione ran downstairs but caught herself. "No. I will go down gracefully and slowly."  
  
"HERMIONE!"  
  
She rolled her eyes at her father and went down, slowly, gracefully . . .  
  
"Ah. There she is." Geoffrey said. Luella and Oliver stood up from the couch. Hermione didn't look at Oliver. Luella gave her a peck on the cheek. "Hermione dear! You look so lovely tonight! Oliver, doesn't Hermione look lovely?"  
  
Hermione made a mental note to kick Luella. Oliver's eyes landed on Hermione. "Yes. You look nice, Hermione." He said stiffly. Hermione felt a blush, but she told herself that he only said it because Luella had asked him.  
  
"Thank you." She managed. Little did she know, Oliver mean it.  
  
``OLIVER'S POV``  
  
Breathtaking. Absolutely breathtaking. Look at her. She looks so innocent yet so . . .it's hard to believe she's only thirteen! She's so womanly! And the way she carries herself! My gosh! Beauty and Brains, this girl.  
  
-  
  
``Normal POV``  
  
Hermione stared at Oliver. "What? Is there something on my face?" she asked. Oliver snapped out of his thoughts. "Huh? What? Oh. Oh! No." he stammered. [Since when do you turn to jelly at the sight of Hermione?!] he demanded silently.  
  
"Then, what is it?" She asked. Oliver frowned. "I can't admire the way you look?" he asked, and immediately wished he had kept his mouth shut. Hermione turned red. "Ah—um . . . of course you can—not that I mean you are. . .I mean—"  
  
"KIDS! Dinner!" Geoffrey shouted from the dining room. Hermione thanked her father silently. "Right. Let's go then." She went into the dining room with Oliver following uncomfortably.  
  
Geoffrey started introducing Luella and Oliver to Jasmine. "How nice to meet you, Luella."  
  
"Nice to meet you too, Jasmine. This is my son Oliver."  
  
"H'lo."  
  
"What a handsome young man you have! You must be so proud."  
  
"Thank you, I am."  
  
This went on for a while, and Hermione chose to just smile and nod and smile and nod.  
  
"Ah, Geoffrey. This spread looks quite delicious!" Luella complimented. In effect, Geoffrey turned scarlet. "Thank you, Luella." He said, a big grin on his face. "Shall we?" and he helped her to her chair.  
  
7:15 PM  
  
They were at the table, eating and having a good time. Luella and Jasmine talked a lot, while Oliver explained quidditch to Geoffrey. Hermione was silent the whole time, not daring to look into those wonderful brown eyes of one beside her.  
  
"So, Luella, what do you do?" Jasmine asked, taking a sip of her white wine. Luella said something about the ministry of magic, blah, blah, blah. Hermione tuned out since no one seemed interested enough to talk to her.  
  
Suddenly, there was light tapping on her arm. Hermione turned her head to look at GASP! You got it . . .Oliver. He was smiling at her sheepishly as he pointed to the applesauce. (I have no idea why there was applesauce)  
  
"Uh—I'm sorry to interrupt your thoughts, but could you pass me the applesauce?" he asked, not looking at her. She blushed and handed him the applesauce. "Oh. Sure. Sorry. I was just spacing out." Oliver nodded but that was it.  
  
Geoffrey asked Oliver something about wands and Oliver completely forgot Hermione. Well . . . not that she cared, or anything.  
  
8:00 PM  
  
They were all seated in the living room, chatting, laughing, doing stuff. Hermione felt out of place. Oliver and Geoffrey seemed to get along quite well, and so did her Grandmother and Luella.  
  
She sat there, pretending that her big toe interested her, while the others were talking happily away when . . .  
  
"Dear?" Jasmine smiled at her. Hermione thanked her grandmother silently for this. "Hi Grandma."  
  
"Are you alright?" Jasmine asked. Hermione nodded. "Yes, of course. Why?"  
  
"Well, you've just been so quiet. Is something bothering you?" Hermione shook her head. She hated lying to her grandmother, but she didn't want to ruin everyone's evening. Jasmine didn't say anymore and returned her attention to Luella.  
  
8:20 PM  
  
Hermione was absorbed in her own thoughts that she didn't hear her father calling her.  
  
"Hermione." Geoffrey frowned and shook her lightly. Hermione snapped out of her thoughts. "Huh? Yeah?" she answered, blushing.  
  
"Hermione, could you show Oliver to the bathroom? I have to get some drinks for our guests."  
  
Hermione stiffened. "Sure dad." She stood up and led the way to the bathroom with Oliver in tow.  
  
"So," Oliver started, trying to be polite. "You've got a very nice home."  
  
"Thanks." Hermione replied, not bothering to look back at him. She quickened her pace whenever she felt Oliver right behind her.  
  
```Oliver's POV```  
  
She's acting weird. It's almost as if she's trying to avoid me. Oh well. Girls are weird. And mom is acting weirder than usual . . .  
  
```NORMAL POV```  
  
Oliver put a hand on Hermione's shoulder to slow her down. "Hey, what's the hurry? It's not like we're in a race, eh?" he chuckled, and Hermione giggled along. She cursed herself for that. "Well, here we are. The bathroom." Hermione said in an announcer's voice, which made Oliver laugh.  
  
"So, do I wait for you outside or go in with you?" Hermione joked. Oliver's eyes widened. "Uh—"  
  
Hermione realized what she had just said and blushed a terrible shade of red. "I-It was a joke Oliver—I'd never—"  
  
"Uh—yeah, I knew that." Oliver nodded, flushed. "Um . . ." They stood there, surrounded in an awkward silence.  
  
"I'll go now," Hermione muttered. She mentally slapped herself several times.  
  
Oliver watched her half-run back down to the living room.  
  
```Hermione's POV```  
  
What the heck was THAT!?! You sounded like a bloody skank! Where'd that come from? Oh what he must be thinking right now!!!  
  
```NORMAL POV```  
  
"Did you show Oliver where the bathroom was?" Jasmine asked, once Hermione stepped into the living room. She nodded and sat down, still flushed. No one noticed, and this time, Hermione was thankful for it.  
  
After a few moments, Oliver came trudging back, and sat down beside Hermione. Luella, Geoffrey and Jasmine were in a heated debate about politics or something, which left Oliver to converse with . . .  
  
"Hermione, how are Harry and Ron?" Oliver asked. He didn't know what else to ask. Hermione muttered something. Clearly, she was still embarrassed.  
  
"Right." he said. He racked his brain for something they could talk about. What? Quidditch? Nah. Movies? Nope. School? Hermione like school, right?  
  
"So, how's school?" he asked. "I miss hogwarts."  
  
"It's still hogwarts. Same old stuff." She replied, not looking at him. "Ron made keeper in the quidditch team. Thought you'd want to know."  
  
Oliver's eyes widened. "Really? That's good! Is he any better than me?" he half-joked. But honestly, was Ron better than him? At least he got a laugh from Hermione.  
  
"He's alright. Harry said he needs to focus more, but you are definitely the better keeper." At this, Oliver beamed. "So, tell me about yourself." he prompted. Hermione giggled. "I don't know. Same old me, nothing new." The she looked like she was trying to remember something. "Oh yes, I'm taking advanced charms too."  
  
Oliver arched a brow. "Really? Are you any good at it? Well of course you are—stupid question. Congratulations."  
  
Hermione beamed at him. He thought she had the cutest smile. "Thank you." "You're welcome."  
  
They were just starting to get comfortable around each other when Luella stood up. "Well, it has been *lovely* but it's getting late." Geoffrey walked her to the door. Oliver stood. "I guess this is goodbye." He said. Hermione nodded. She was slightly disappointed. Oliver followed his mother outside, as did Hermione.  
  
"Goodbye, Geoffrey. Thank you for having us over. Thank jasmine for me too." Luella said. Geoffrey nodded and gave her a warm embrace. Hermione gagged.  
  
"Bye, Hermione dear. I'll see you next week!" Luella said, hugging her. Hermione gave her a confused look. "Next week?"  
  
"Yes. Geoffrey invited us to a picnic. Looking forward to it." And with that, Luella and Oliver vanished with a crack, leaving Hermione glaring at her father.  
  
+  
  
//NEXT DAY\\  
  
At the Wood house (Haha! House made of Wood! LOL!):  
  
Oliver woke up, sunshine spilling all over his face. He groaned and yanked the blanket off of him and stumbled to the bathroom.  
  
He splashed some cool water on his face, wiped it, brushed his teeth, and yanked on a shirt that was lying on the bathroom floor. Typical boy thing. Ew. (HAHA!)  
  
By the time he got to the dining room, he found his mother and his little brother, Oakar or Oak for short (OAK WOOD! I am so corny!) Already half- done with their breakfast.  
  
"Abou' time, Ollie!" the 6-year-old said, spraying bits of carrots all over the table. Oliver chuckled and ruffled his brother's hair. "Oak shut your mouth." He missed his little brother. Oak came back from a vacation with their aunt just this morning.  
  
Oak obeyed. Oliver sat down beside the child and began piling mountains of carrots and eggs and whatever. Oak's eyes grew big. "Ollie, can you finish o' that?" he asked incredulously. Oliver nodded while stuffing his face. Luella clicked her tongue and reprimanded Oliver for being a bad example to his little brother.  
  
"Sorry mom." Oliver muttered, grinning at Oak. Oak stuck his tongue out playfully.  
  
"Now boys, you know I need to go shopping so Oliver, I trust that you'll take care of your baby brother and be a GOOD example." Luella emphasized the word good.  
  
"Why are you going shopping?" Oliver asked, gulping down his juice. Oak imitated him, except juice spilled down his shirt.  
  
"Oh you know," Luella stuttered, blushing wildly. "Geoffrey has invited us, including Oak, to a picnic . . ."  
  
"I see." Oliver cut her off curtly. "Be sure to get me my broom care kit thing."  
  
"And my voldie voodoo doll!" Oak added quickly. Luella frowned at Oliver, kissed Oak and left.  
  
When she was gone, Oak turned to his brother. "Why are you so mean to mommy?" he asked. Oliver snorted. "Because mommy has forgotten about daddy."  
  
"I've forgotten papa, so how come you're not mean to me?"  
  
"Because Oak, you never knew papa. You were only four when he—" Oliver gulped. He didn't want to remember. Oak pushed his plate away and jumped down from his chair and hit Oliver.  
  
"I knows papa! He had a big belly and a big bushy cat on his face!"  
  
"Mustache, Oak."  
  
"Mastoosh, cat, whatever!" Oak rolled his eyes. "Mommy said papa went with the angels. Is he with the angels, Ollie? Are they taking care of him?"  
  
Oliver smiled at his brother's innocence. "Yes." he said. Oak smiled. "Good. Because if they hurt papa I'm gonna put the cactus curse on them!" Oak grabbed his toy wand from the table and pretended to hex someone.  
  
"Cruciatus." Oliver corrected. Oak rolled his eyes. "Whatever."  
  
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++  
  
I hope you all enjoyed that chapter! Haha, I love oak! He's so adorable! Haha! And for my reviewers . . .  
  
I GIVE TO THEE . . . FORTUNE COOKIES! Go ahead! Open them up!  
  
~  
  
Sarahamanda – Thank you, thank you! You will find 100 bucks lying on the floor!!!  
  
IceCristal – The cracker is flattered that you are reading a non-D/H fic. You will receive a very special birthday gift from a loved one!  
  
Stardrops - the cracker finds it a weird conversation too, and thanks you for your review. You will receive a portable TV with built in couch!  
  
Cute Angels – the cracker is very pleased that you like O/Hr! You will receive voldemort voodoo doll, with pins!  
  
Arallahmenora – the cracker is happy that you like the relationship of Hermione and her grandmother, although the cracker seems to find it more interesting if there is a big gap but thank you for pointing it out. You shall receive the sorting hat!  
  
Goldfishryummy – the cracker thanks you. You get a fishbowl and 100 pieces of gold!  
  
Slytheirnrules85 – the cracker is quite confused when you said it was good but not that good, but the cracker thanks you. You shall receive the newest model of brooms!  
  
Satern Mya – the cracker thanks you deeply. You shall receive a flying carpet with bertie bott's every flavor beans!  
  
THE CRACKER HOPES YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER!!!! 


	5. Horrible yesterday

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.

REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now) Oh! But I own JASMINE and OAK.

Chapter 5 – Horrible yesterday

-

-

-

_Ollie's acting weird. _Oak searched his brother's face for some kind of clue. _Zilch. _Oak nibbled on his pineapple in frustration.

The Woods and the Grangers were picnicking in a park beside a small pond. Everyone was done eating except for Oliver, Hermione, and Oak.

Oak turned his head to Hermione. She was looked like she was forcing herself not to look up. _She's acting funny too. _

Oak sighed and took a big bite out of his pineapple. He set the fork down on his plate and turned to Luella. "Mommy, I don't like the pineapple anymore."

Luella was busy listening to Geoffrey. _Mommy likes that man._

The little boy was tired of all this silence between Oliver and Hermione.

"Hey Mynimee!" he shook Hermione gently. "Mynimee!"

She snapped out of whatever trance she was in and gave a startled cry. "Oak! Oh dear, you gave me a fright."

"Wanna play Frisbee?" Oak asked, his big, sweet, innocent brown eyes boring into hers. She couldn't resist such a sweet little kid. "Sure, Oak."

_Good! Now for Ollie! _"Wanna play with us, Ollie?" Oak tugged on his brother's sleeve. Oliver seemed to not hear him. He continued chewing his watermelon.

"I said, you wanna play Frisbee with us?" Oak repeated, a little louder. Oliver seemed deep in thought. Oak turned to Hermione. "He's not listening! I think he's gone blind!"

"It's deaf, Oak. Oliver's gone deaf." Hermione corrected. Oak shrugged.

Hermione was about to call out to Oliver, but then she stopped. _Let Oak ask Oliver. I don't want to seem as if I—_

But her hands betrayed her. Before she knew it, Oliver was looking at her expectantly as her hand rested on his arm.

Oliver's eyes pierced through hers, waiting for whatever she was going to do or say.

Oak watched. Hermione suddenly felt stupid.

"Uh—Would you like to play Frisbee with us?" she asked slowly, avoiding eye contact. Oliver raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Oh . . . sure." He nodded. Hermione bit her lower lip. _Okay . . .so get up already. _She urged herself mentally. But she didn't. She stayed there, looking at anything but Oliver, and her hand was still resting on his arm.

Oliver, on the other hand was confused. She had asked him to play, so why wasn't she getting up? He was oblivious to the fact that she had her hand on his arm.

Oak grinned impishly. Now he knew what was going on. Oliver liked Hermione! And Hermione liked Oliver! _This is too good!_

Oliver was finally aware that there was a hand on his arm. He jerked his arm away and got up.

Hermione was taken by surprise and turned a good shade of red. _What was I doing? _She demanded. _I looked like an idiot! And why didn't I take my hand off? He practically yanked his arm away!!! _

Oliver cleared his throat, and Hermione—though unwillingly—looked at him. "Are we going to play or not?" he asked playfully.

Oak nodded. "YES WE ARE!" he jumped up and ran to Oliver. Now Hermione was the only one sitting down, feeling dumber.

The two Woods were waiting for her, hands on their hips identically. Hermione had to laugh at this.

"Alright. I'm in." She got up, brushed the dirt off her jeans and imitated them by settling her hands on her hips and giving them the same stare they gave her.

"That's the spirit!" Oliver laughed.

Hermione dashed across the field, keeping an eye on the spinning yellow Frisbee. "IT'S OVER THERE, MYNIMEE! GRAB IT! GRAB IT!" Oak cheered. Oliver gave him a frown. "You don't want her to win, do you?"

Oak nodded brightly. "Yes I do! I want Mynimee to win!"

Hermione jumped into the air and caught the Frisbee. "YES! Game point! I win!" she screamed with delight.

Oak ran over the field to congratulate a panting, but happy Hermione. Oliver walked to them, hands inside his pockets. "You win, you win." He grumbled.

Hermione giggled and held out her hand for him to shake. He took it and shook it. "It's not so bad, Oliver. You played your best."

"It is too. And my best wasn't enough."

Oak rolled his eyes and turned to Hermione. "Ollie likes winning. He always wins. Well—not today but he always wins."

"Put a cork in it, Oak." Oliver muttered. Oak stuck his tongue out and went back to his mother, leaving Oliver and Hermione together. Alone. Crap.

"That was fun. I never knew running around could be so—exhilarating." Hermione said perkily. Oliver muttered something, still annoyed that a girl beat him. A GIRL! Pff. . . Chauvinist.

Hermione nudged him. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"You have to accept that I won and you—"

"_Hermione_!"

"Don't be so bitter, Wood. Just because you lost to me, doesn't mean—"

"_I get it._"

"Well you should," Hermione went on, enjoying his childish behavior. "Because bookworms aren't _just _bookworms. They're—"

"Conceited, maybe?" Oliver offered, his face all contorted. (A/N: I love that word!) Hermione giggled. "Yes, they are." She joked. Oliver still looked kind of upset.

"Oh come on, Wood. Give me one of those radiant smiles of yours. You know, the kind that makes the girls swoon." Hermione pretended to swoon. He blushed, but thank gosh she didn't see it.

Oliver tried his best not to smile, but darn! He broke into a wide grin. He cursed himself for that. Then he laughed. He cursed himself for that, too. Curse, curse, curse. _Currrssseee . . ._

Hermione broke into laughter as well. "Why-gasp-are we-gasp-laughing? -Gasp-"

Oliver shrugged, still laughing.

Meanwhile, Oak asked Jasmine to take him to the pond. Jasmine agreed, and they went on their merry little way, leaving _ahem _alone. Oak was evil. Pure, pure, evil.

Luella felt awkward a bit, in her green sundress that showed off her shoulders. She felt Geoffrey's eyes on her as she finished her fruit up. Luella felt a blush creeping up to her cheeks and she feared for that.

"Luella?"

Luella looked up. Apparently, Geoffrey had asked her something, and was looking at her expectantly.

"Sorry. What was that?" _oh my goodness. _

"I was asking if you'd like to take a walk, since the kids and Jasmine are out doing their own thing." He looked kind of embarrassed.

"Oh. Sure." Luella nodded, standing up. Geoffrey gave her a sweet smile and offered his hand. She took it.

"It's quite funny how we met," Geoffrey started. Luella nodded. "But I'm glad we met."

Luella blushed. She was about to say something when she felt Geoffrey's hand brush against hers. She turned to look at him; he was smiling at her. She bit her lip to stop herself from turning even redder.

_Meanwhile _

"So, now that you've graduated, what do you want to do?" Hermione tied her hair into a ponytail and faced Oliver. The boy shrugged. "Don't know yet. Take it easy, I guess."

"Take it easy? How do you mean?" Hermione was interested. Oliver shrugged again. "I don't really care, Hermione. Whatever happens happens."

She was quite disappointed with Oliver. How could he just "take it easy"? For her, taking it easy was the same as bumming around. And she certainly didn't want a boyfriend who bummed around. "Well you should—" Hermione's eyes widened.  
What was she thinking? _Boyfriend?! _NO! NO WAY! EW! Oh gawd!

Hermione slapped her forehead. Oliver noticed. "I think I'm going insane!" she snapped.

"Are you . . .alright?" He reached out to her but she jumped away. "Oh no!" She backed away from his with slow, cautious steps. "Oh no, no, no. NO!" Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Oh no, what?"

"No, no, no! Nononononononononononono!"

"Hermione, what is going on?"

"YOU ARE POSOINING MY MIND! MY CLEAN, CLEAN MIND WITH SICK . . .HORRIFYING THOUGHTS!" She screamed. Oliver's jaw dropped.  
"WHAT?!"

"YOU! YOU!" she pointed at him, finger trembling. "YOU HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE BOY!"

Oliver was tremendously confused, agitated, and freaked out all at the same time. "Hermione!!!"

"How can you do this to me?! How can you do this to my mind?! My beautiful, clean, intelligent mind!" Hermione was saying all of this in a fast manner, which made Oliver only hear a rush of words with no meaning whatsoever. He hoped that she'd slow down . . .so he could understand what he "did" to her.

But she didn't. Not in the least.

"I never ever had this problem before! You! You and your hotness!" Oliver let out a little gasp in surprise. Did she say _hotness_? His heart started to beat faster.

"I was so focused on not letting this happen and it's happening—"

"Hermione! Slow down!"

"Oliver Wood, I condemn you! I—"

"For what?!"

"For being the perfect boy! For being the perfect distraction!"

"I never—"

"I DO NOT LIKE YOU ONE BIT! I DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR YOU! I AM COLD TOWARDS YOU! COLD, I SAY! AS COLD AS THE NORTH POLE! COLDER THAN MALFOY'S HEART!"

Oliver didn't listen. Only one word kept repeating itself in his mind. Hotness. She had just said she found him hot. Didn't she? He felt the corners of his mouth tug upward. Well good gosh. Hermione found him hot.

"You find me h—" before he could finish, Hermione, angry as a whale, stormed off.

The next day. . .

Hermione woke up with a start, heart banging against her chest. She groaned, recalling the events of yesterday. Oh, that horrible yesterday.

Yesterday replayed over and over and over again in her mind, and with each playback, she groaned, heart sinking. She remembered that awful yesterday where she exploded—quite unreasonably too—and let out that one word . . .that one terrible word that cost her so much embarrassment and regret.

_Hotness. _

With this, Hermione let out a long, piercing shriek. A shriek so deafening that the walls of her room shook, and a glass on her bedside table broke spraying pieces of jagged glass all over the floor.

Oh my oh my. What had she done?

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**I'M SO 100x SORRY FOR SUCH THE LONG WAIT! It's been ages, I know! I'm so sorry! I do hope that this chapter makes up for that!  
I've been so busy with school, and tests and stuff! I'M SORRY!**

**To all of those who reviewed and waited patiently (I hope) I promise never again to keep you waiting for so long! **

**THANK YOU FOR READING AND REVIEWING! To all of my reviewers: THANK YOU! I LOVE YOU ALL! If you have any complaints, comments, suggestions, violent reactions, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I love you all! Sorry! Thank you! **


	6. The wisdom of Oak Wood and Dr Fred

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.

REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now) Oh! But I own JASMINE and OAK.

Chapter 6 – The wisdom of Oak Wood and Dr. Fred

Geoffrey Granger was feeling rather pleasant today. Jasmine had noticed it too.

"What are you up to, Geoff?" Jasmine asked, struggling to get her comb through the tangles of her thick, grayish hair. Geoffrey made no effort to reply, but simply broke into a wild, boyish grin.

Jasmine was old, yes. But old age does come with wisdom, and she knew the symptoms of love. And Geoffrey? He was down right in love.

"What do you plan on doing for today, dear?"

Geoffrey sighed happily. "Go out."

"Where?"

"Out."

Jasmine raised an eyebrow. Geoffrey was acting like he did in his teen years. Jasmine had always said Love made one younger.

"Where, out?"

"Out, out."

"With?"

"Someone."

"Who someone?"

"A girl someone."

Jasmine was getting tired of Geoffrey's childish behavior, though she found it adorable. But, still. A mother never liked incomplete information, and Jasmine was that kind of mother.

"Luella Wood?" she asked. Geoffrey choked on his coffee. "L-Luella? Why her? What made you think that I—"

"It's her, isn't it? Nice woman, she is."

"Mother!"

"Well, isn't she? Lovely too."

"Moooother!"

"And her sons are just delightful! Shows what a splendid job she's doing as a mother."

"Yes, and well you aren't."

"Aren't what?"

"Doing such a good job, being a mother." Jasmine laughed and set her comb down. "Go and have fun, Geoffrey. I'll take care of Hermione."

Geoffrey, clad in his best threads, set off. As he drove to the Wood residence, he thought about Luella. About that wonderful, gorgeous Luella.

About her radiance, her sweetness.

Geoffrey sighed. He'd never met such a perfect woman in his life—not even Hermione's mother was as great as her.

Night and day, day and night, Luella was on his mind twenty-four-seven. He liked her a lot, possibly even loved her. They had been seeing each other ever since the incident at platform 9 ¾, and he enjoyed her company very much.

He also loved spending time with the Wood boys. They were like the sons he never had. He loved everything about them—about Luella and her boys. He also loved the fact that they got along so well with Hermione and Jasmine.

Hmm… Hermione sure acted weird last week, when they had the picnic with the Woods.

Ah! He was here at last!

_Ding-dong. _He waited anxiously.

"Hey Mr. Ginger!" Oak beamed up at him. Geoffrey ruffled the boy's hair. "H'lo, Oak. Your mother ready?"

"Nuh-uh. She's still getting pretty." Oak led him inside, to the living room, to the couch. Oliver was seated on the couch, busily reading a book.

Geoffrey sat down on an armchair across him. "Hello Oliver."

Oliver looked up, nodded in greeting, and went back to his book. Geoffrey thought he was acting weird too.

"What are you reading?" he asked, trying to strike up a conversation. Oliver looked up again. "Girls for dummies."

Geoffrey laughed. "Girl trouble?"

"You might say that."

"Oh?"

Oliver grinned. "Well, there's this girl, see?" Geoffrey nodded, secretly elated at the fact that Oliver was telling him about his girl problems. "And well, we were getting along really well. All of a sudden, she starts acting crazy."

"Hate it when that happens."

"Like a maniac."

"The worst!" Geoffrey agreed.

"So I'm kind of confused. It's like I did something to her when I actually didn't, but now I think I did but I know I didn't."

"I don't quite follow . . ."

"Neither do I." Oliver got up. "I'll get mom for you."

"Thanks."

Geoffrey played with his wallet—flipping it—while waiting. He didn't notice Oak plop down on the couch.

"Mommy really likes you." The boy said casually. Geoffrey looked up, surprised. "Say that again?"

"It's true! Mommy talks about you all the time! Sometimes I get real sleepy when she talks about you."

Geoffrey let out a chuckle. "Do you, Oak?" The little boy nodded grabbing a cushion and hugging it. "Mommy says you're real swell and she likes your hair."

Geoffrey raised his eyebrows. "Really?" Oak nodded again. "Sometimes Oliver leaves the room when mommy babbles on about you. He says it's too much for him."

"Why is that?"

"I don't know. Shall I get mommy for you?" Oak stood up, ready to go if Geoffrey would just say the word.

"No, it's alright. Oliver is getting her." Geoffrey smiled at the boy. He was so angelic. Oak shrugged and plopped back down on the couch. "Do you like my mommy too, Mr. Ginger?"

Geoffrey blushed at the question, and Oak looked at him strangely. "Oh very much, yes." the little boy smiled in approval. "Good."

Just then, Luella came into the room—and in Geoffrey's opinion, she lighted up the room. He stood up and beamed at her. Luella smiled back, blushing slightly. "Are those for me?" she asked, eyeing the flowers in Geoffrey's hand.

"Oh! Of course! Yes." he handed them to her, and she took them. "They're lovely." She remarked, smelling them. He watched as she did this, totally absorbed with her.

Luella gave them to Oliver who was standing behind her, stifling a laugh as he looked at a lovesick Geoffrey. Geoffrey immediately snapped out of the trance he was in and ushered Luella out of the living room with the boys in tow.

When they reached the front door, Oliver let out a slight chuckle. "Be good, mom." Luella frowned a bit and took Geoffrey's arm. "_You _be good, Oliver. I'll see you tonight."

As Oliver and Oak watched Geoffrey help Luella into the car, Oliver couldn't help thinking about his own dad. He felt a little upset about the whole Luella-Geoffrey thing.

It was as if his mother didn't care for his father anymore. She was totally and completely enamored with Geoffrey. Oliver felt a slightly betrayed.

"Ollie?"

Oak was too absorbed in his own thoughts that he failed to notice his little brother staring up at him. "Ollie? Are you alright?"

Oliver nodded and picked his brother up. "I'm fine, Oak. Listen, do you like Geoffrey?"

"Mr. Ginger?"

"Yes."

"Yes! He's the best!"

Oliver frowned and set his brother down. "What about papa? Don't you care about him?"

"But papa's dead."

"Just because he's dead, it doesn't mean mother should just throw herself at any random man that comes her way, Oak!" Oliver was surprised at his sharp tone.

Oak's lower lip trembled. Oliver instantly picked his brother up again. "I'm sorry, Oak."

"Just because papa's dead, it doesn't mean mommy has to be lonely."

Oliver kept silent as Oak rested his little head on his big brother's shoulder. Sometimes Oak surprised Oliver. The little boy knew things.

Geoffrey brought Luella to an old fashioned drive-in movie somewhere in muggle London. As they watched the film—something about a man going through heck just to get the girl to fall in love with him—Geoffrey slipped his hand into Luella's.

Taken by surprised, Luella tore her eyes away from the screen and blinked at Geoffrey. He thought she was offended and quickly jerked his hand away. Awkwardness surrounded them.

"I—I'm terribly sorry, Luella, I—" he sputtered, trying to explain himself. He didn't need to. Luella, for a brief moment, turned pink. And then, the next thing Geoffrey knew was that Luella's soft, moist lips were planted on his.

Cheesy romantic music from the movie filled the air as the two leading characters kissed, the same time as Luella and Geoffrey.

Luella pulled away, looking flushed. Geoffrey blinked ten times before saying anything. When he did say something, it was more of a scream of delight.

He instantly took Luella is his arms and kissed her again.

Oliver tucked Oak into bed. He smiled slightly as he studied his little brother's face; innocent, happy and honest.  
Oliver wished he could be more like his little brother. Sometimes he wanted to _be _Oak.  
Oliver kissed the top of his brother's head and tiptoed out of the room.

As he walked into the living room to resume his reading, Oliver decided that he needed to vent. But to whom?

"Weasely residence. Gred—I mean Fred speaking. How may I help you?"

"Fred, is that you?"

"Depending on who _you _are. . . I could be me, or I could also be someone else."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Knock it off. It's me, Oliver."

"Oliver _who_?"

"Oliver Wood."

Oliver heard a muffled "Do we know an Oliver Wood, George?" as if Fred had covered the mouthpiece with his hand. "Right then."

"You, sir, are in luck. We _do _know you."

"Hello Fred."

"H'lo, Wood. What's on your mind?"

Oliver sighed. He certainly didn't feel like telling Fred the whole story from top to bottom. He figured he'd just go straight to the point.

"Fred, be honest. Is there something wrong with me?"

"Yes."

"FRED!"

"You told me to be honest!"

"Seriously!"

"Haha, alright! Alright! Can't you take a joke?"

"No."

"Figures."

"Come on, man. Is there something wrong with me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like . . .you know, am I retarded or something?"

"Retarded! Why would you say that about yourself?"

"Well . . .see—"

"Stop beating around the bush and just get on with it!"

"Okay. See, there's this—"

"Girl."

"Er—yes. And. . . and she has me quite—"

"Confused?"

"—yes, yes. Now will you let me—"

"Finish?"

"FRED, DARN IT!"

"Sorry!" Fred chuckled on the other line. "Please, do continue." Oliver growled in aggravation but continued. "So anyway, she has me confused. See, we were having a good time talking and stuff when all of a sudden she asks me this question."

"Permission to speak, Oliver sir."

"Go on."

"May I know the question?"

"Right. She asked me—since I've already graduated—what I'd do. You know, like get a job or something."

"So what did you say?"

"I said whatever."

"Whatever?"

"Whatever. Whatever happens. Go with the flow. That sort of thing."

"So?"

"I guess it upset her or something."

"Like did she foam in the mouth? Act like a crazed hen?"

"Er—yyyeeeahhh. Sort of. Except the foaming part. I mean, I ask her if she's okay, and she jumps away from me like I've got a disease."

"I see. And then what did the demented damsel do?" Fred asked, using his psychiatrist voice. Oliver sighed. "I don't know! She. . .she started calling me a distraction and condemning me for being the—what was it—perfect boy and—" Fred cleared his throat. "I know what's up." Oliver raised his eyebrows. "You do?"

"She likes you." Fred said simply. Oliver started to say something but his voice got caught in his throat and all he made was a sort of squeaking-wheezing sound.

"Bless you." Fred said.  
"Tha—th—that can't be t-true! That—that is…that…it…would…"

"It _is _possible. And I bet you like her back, eh?" How Oliver _hated _Fred's all-knowing tone. How Oliver wanted to smack Fred right on the head. Yet…How Oliver wanted so much for the great all-knowing Fred to be right.

Hermione heard the sound of an engine shutting off. Geoffrey must be back. She glanced at her wristwatch. Eleven thirty-six. She flicked the television off and opened the door for her father who came in with a dreamy look on his face.

"Hi dad." Hermione raised a brow as her father walked right past her and into the kitchen. She followed him.

"How was your date, dad?" she asked. Geoffrey mumbled something as he poured himself a cup of warm milk. Hermione pulled a chair out and sat down, elbows on the table. "Pardon?"

It took a while for Geoffrey to notice Hermione. And when he did, he gave her a disapproving look. "No elbows on the table."

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "How was it?" she asked. Geoffrey took a long sip of his milk. "How was what? Oh! The . . .the thing with Luella!"

Hermione nodded slowly. "The _thing_ with Luella, yeah. Have fun on your date?"

Geoffrey turned red. "_Date_? My dear, it was most certainly not a _date_!" Hermione grinned. "Dad . . ." Her father raised his hands up in the air. "But if you must know, yes I had quite a good time."

"So are you going out with Luella again?"

"Probably. Possibly."

"Yes?"

"Go to bed, Hermione."

"Daddy!" Geoffrey got up from the table and gently shoved his daughter out of the kitchen. "Go to sleep." Hermione fought back, giggling. "C'mon, dad! Tell me!" Geoffrey chuckled. "_Goodnight Hermione._"

She gave in. "Alright. You win. Night dad." Geoffrey planted a kiss on her forehead and sent her off to bed. When he thought she had gone upstairs, he did a little dance number. He felt so wonderful. He felt so in love. Nothing, and I mean _nothing _could ruin the moment.

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**I am SO sorry for the tremendously long wait! I've been so busy! I hope no one has given up on this fic! I have time to write now, and I really hope you have time to read it! I'm sorry! Sorry! Don't give up on me :D**


	7. Out in the open, open, open

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.

REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now) Oh! But I own JASMINE and OAK.

Chapter 7 – Out in the open, open, open

**HAPPY EASTER EVERYONE!**

It had been two months since Luella and Geoffrey had happily announced them being a couple. Everyone was rather happy for them, surprisingly including Oliver and Hermione. It was nice; yes it was, to see their parents happy again.

The Woods and the Grangers would often spend time with each other. They would go to movies together, eat out and the like.

Hermione and Oliver still weren't comfortable around each other ever since Hermione's little episode back at the picnic, though they tried to be. It was nice, the way Oliver would try to talk to Hermione, but he found it rather frustrating because the girl would either avoid him or completely ignore him.

_  
I'd really like to end all this nonsense, _He'd often think. And he would consider, also, bringing up the subject about the picnic to Hermione. He knew she'd avoid it, but he was desperate to get back to her good side. Oliver did so desperately want to find out, too, about what he "did" to her and what she thought of him for her to have said "_You and your hotness!_"

Secretly, he was ecstatic that she thought of him as _hot_.

Hermione, on the other hand, was the complete opposite of Oliver when it came to her confruzzled feelings. She loved to debate with herself whether she was truly attracted to him, or liked him just because she was getting used to seeing his face. Bottom line, she _knew _she liked him because she was truly attracted to him, and she hated herself for that. Why, we do not know.

_  
Wood residence _

Oliver was putting Oak's shirt on for him since the boy refused to do it himself (Merlin knows why).

"Hey Oliver?" Oak asked, once Oliver had Oak's head in the collar. "We've been spending a lot o' time with the Gingers, haven't we, Oliver?"

"Indeed we have, little man. Hurry up and put your socks on. Mother's waiting downstairs. They could arrive any minute." But Oak insisted for his older brother to put them on for him.

"So I can talk to you better," Oak said when Oliver asked him why he was being such a lazy little pig. "We're going to see them again, aren't we, Oliver?"

"Yeah."

"Are you excited?" Oak asked, an impish grin on his angelic face. Oliver looked up at his little brother. "Why would I be?"

Now, Oliver knew Oak thought he liked Hermione . . .which was true. Unlike Hermione, Oliver had accepted the fact that he _did_ like her. Very much, might I add. But Oliver wasn't going to let _anyone_ know this. Well, not until he and Hermione had settled whatever it was they needed to settle. And Oliver intended to settle it _today_.

"Oliver! Oak! They are here! Come down, quickly!" Luella called from downstairs. Oliver looked at Oak, and Oak looked at Oliver. "You ready?" Oak asked. Oliver grinned. "Please."

The boys raced down the stairs. "I WIN!" Oliver cried out as Oak pouted. "You _always _win. Aren't you bored of it?" Oliver laughed. "No way."

"Ahem."

The two boys turned to look at their mother who had her hands on her hips. "Say hello to Geoffrey and Hermione, boys." Oliver instantly felt self-conscious. There was Hermione, standing beside her father, with an amused look on her face. Oliver cleared his throat. "Hi Geoffrey." He said, shaking the man's hand. He swallowed and turned to Hermione. She looked down.

"Hi."

"Hello."

"HI MYNIMEE!" Oak shrieked. He pushed Oliver aside and wrapped his little arms around the girl. She hugged him back. "Why hello, Oak."

_  
If only I were oak right now. . ._Oliver thought. The he laughed silently. _Wouldn't want that._

"Let's go, shall we?" Geoffrey said. He took Luella's hand and they led the kids to the car. "We're going to go to a muggle zoo. Won't that be fun, kids?"

Geoffrey was oblivious of the less-than-excited replies he was receiving.

"Absolutely." Oliver said in a flat tone.

"Hmm. A blast." This was accompanied by an eye roll from Hermione. But Oak on the other hand . . . "FINALLY! SOME ACTION! I thought we were going to do boring stuff like eat again!" he tugged on Luella's skirt. "Ma, are we going to see a helepuff there? And a crocowile? Are we? Huh? Huh?"

Oliver and Hermione smiled with fondness at Oak. "It's _elephant_, Oak. And it's not crocowile, it's _crocodile_." Hermione corrected. Oak put his hands up in the air. "Whatever! I just want to see 'em!"

Absent-mindedly, Hermione tapped Oliver's arm. "Is there no limit to his energy?" Oliver, surprised that she was acknowledging him, hesitated. _Does she know it's me she's talking to? What if—what the heck! She just asked you a question! When someone asks a question, answer it, for Merlin's sake!_

"Don't think so. He goes on and on." At his reply, Hermione looked up at him. After a few seconds, her eyes widened and she let out a little gasp. "Oh. Y-yeah." Then Hermione quickened her pace and walked ahead. Oliver figured her mind registered that it was he who she was talking to just now. He frowned and shoved his hands into his pockets.

As they got into the car, Oliver noted that Hermione made Oak sit in the middle. _Yep, she's still avoiding me. But that's all going to end today._ He thought. His lips formed a satisfied smile as he crossed his arms over his chest. Little did he know that Hermione was watching him from the corner of her eye.

_  
Hermione's POV_

Why is he smiling like that! It's like he's planning some evil. . .what am I saying? But gawd, he looks so—stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!

_  
Normal POV_

Hermione snorted, folded her arms over her chest and looked out the window. _I am not taken by Oliver Wood. Sure, the lad is handsome and warm and friendly and genuinely nice but those aspects don't matter at all. Besides, I like guys who have cute butts and I doubt very much that Oliver has a cute butt. Therefore, I am not taken by Oliver Wood._ As Hermione concluded this thought, Geoffrey parked the car. "We've arrived. Everyone out."

"Where do we go first, dear?" Luella asked as Geoffrey locked the car. Oliver gagged inwardly. Since they had become a couple, Luella had been calling Geoffrey all kinds of pet names. Hunsy, Sweetums, Luvikkins and Sugarlips were some of which Oliver didn't like very much. But it seemed that Geoffrey enjoyed the names Luella had given him. Horrible.

"HELEPUFF! HELEPUFF!" Oak chanted. Hermione giggled. "Seems like Oak knows where he wants to go," Oliver said. Geoffrey laughed. "Right you are. Okay, Oak. Lead the way." Oak gave Geoffrey a salute. "I shall do my best, sir." Oliver grinned and shook his head. How did Oak manage to appear so cute and innocent?

At first, Hermione, Oliver, Luella, Geoffrey and Oak walked as a group. But gradually, Luella and Geoffrey drifted farther behind the group and Oak would run ahead. So that left . . .

"So this is a muggle zoo." Oliver mused aloud. Hermione grunted something and kept her gaze steady ahead. "I've never been to a muggle zoo, believe it or not." Hermione found this little tidbit interesting. She just couldn't help but comment. "Really? Why not?" the corners of Oliver's lips tugged upward but he was careful not to let Hermione see. She might withdraw herself again.

"I rarely come to muggle London. The only zoo I've ever known of—before this—is the magical zoo." Then he looked down at Hermione. "I trust you've been there?"

For the first time in two months, Hermione met his look. "I have never in my life. I guess you aren't alone."

"Interesting." Oliver said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Remind me to take you there one day." To his surprise, Hermione smiled. "Remind you, I shall." He smiled back. And it was a rare moment and sight indeed, to see Hermione Granger and Oliver Wood smiling at each other for more that one nanosecond. It was too bad, though, that Hermione had to shatter this rare and beautiful moment by looking away.

_  
Why are you smiling at him! He is a distraction, remember! Don't let yourself be distracted lest you might fall in lov—no! Quit it! _Hermione scolded herself. She slapped her forehead. Oliver noticed. "Are you o—"

"Save it." Hermione said icily. She increased her speed and walked ahead. _This is not going to happen again._ Oliver thought. He ran up to her and grabbed her wrist. She whirled around and glared at him. "What are you doing?" she hissed. Oliver didn't let go.

"Hermione," he started, his tone low and firm. She struggled to pull away. "Let go, you're causing a scene!" Oliver looked around. "No one's watching. Come on," he started to pull her toward a secluded area between a hotdog stand and a bathroom. "What are you doing? Will you stop—Oliver!" Once they were hidden and out of sight, Oliver let go. Hermione scowled and rubbed her wrist.

"What the heck was that about?" she demanded. Oliver hushed her. "I will most certainly not keep quiet! I _demand_ to know what caused you to. . .to _drag_ me into this—"

"This cannot keep happening, Hermione." Oliver said. "I agree! From now on, you will stay at least a mile from me and furthermore—"

"No, I meant that we can't keep doing this." That stilled Hermione's tongue for a second. Her eyes narrowed into slits. "_What are you talking about_?"

Oliver sighed heavily. "Okay. First things first. Do _not _walk away from me now. I have something of importance to discuss with you." Hermione put her hands on her hips. "Spit it out, Wood. You're wasting my life." Oliver ignored the insult.

"I want to talk to you about what happened at the picnic—"

"Oh my—! I don't need to hear this crap." Hermione began to leave but Oliver grabbed her arm and held on to her. Tight. "No! You stay right _here_." Oliver dramatically pointed to the ground. "We're going to straighten things out whether you _like it or not_. Do you understand?" Oliver eyed Hermione expectantly. She narrowed her eyes at him but stayed anyway. Knowing that he had her full attention, Oliver began.

"I've been thinking a lot, Hermione, and no matter how hard I try I can't figure out what made you so angry with me. I'm going insane just talking about it but I have to know."

Hermione opened her mouth but Oliver held up a hand. "I am not finished. Now what I'm going to do here is recall the events that happened at the picnic that might have led to this . . .this . . .predicament. Don't speak until I'm done, please. We need to cooperate." Oliver hated the fact that he sounded like a father talking to an unbelievably stupid child, but it had to be done. Hermione's stare remained arctic. Oliver took this as a sign to go on.

"Okay. So we arrived at the park and had lunch. After eating, Oak invited us to play Frisbee with him and we did. You won—" Oliver paused and frowned as if it were unpleasant to say it. "—Then we sat down and talked. Am I doing alright so far?" Hermione raised a brow. "Do I have permission to speak, master?" she asked, her voice as sharp as a Swiss army knife sharpened to the fullest. Her tone sliced through Oliver's heart, if you will, but he ignored it and nodded. "Go ahead."

"What is the relevance—" but then Hermione closed her mouth and drew her lips to a tight line. She _refused _to talk to Oliver yet she wanted to see where this was going. "The relevance of this is for me to _understand _your outburst at the picnic and why our relationship—"

"We don't have one." Hermione cut him off. Oliver resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I'd like one." He said under his breath. And more loudly, he continued, "—has turned into this horrible mess. Now, if I may go on, I believe I was at the point of our conversation back at the picnic. So," he didn't wait for Hermione to confirm this.

"We had quite a jolly old time chatting about until you asked me this question. Do you remember it?" she nodded. "Good. And do you remember what I said? I said I'd take it easy first. Whatever happens happens. Then suddenly, you go crazy. You accuse me of being the perfect boy; you accuse me of poisoning your mind—which I honestly don't understand—with sick horrifying thoughts . . ." Oliver ticked them with his fingers and as he did so, Hermione continuously turned seven shades of red. She hated to remember.

"And then you say . . .you say that you never had this problem before and I caused it. I and my—hotness." Oliver paused, and fiercely tried to stop himself from breaking into a wild grin. Hermione was trembling with anger but I suppose that 'trembling with embarrassment' would seem to fit better.

"Care to explain?" Oliver asked. Hermione gritted her teeth. "Please?" he added. Hermione balled her fists and took what it seemed like a million deep breaths before saying anything. But Oliver was a patient gentleman. He needed not to rush her.

"You see it's like this. Well, the explanation for this is—yes, there's an explanation and it . . .it is . . ." this was exceptionally difficult for Hermione. What would she say to him? _I acted insane because I am insane—for you. _But Hermione bit her tongue. There was no way on earth that she was going to admit that to herself and to him. No way. No way.

"I know it's difficult on your part, and I hate to put you on the spot but—"

"IdidthatbecauseIwassuddenlythinkingofyoudifferentlyasinmorethanafriendanditbotheredmethatIlikedyouandIwasn'sureaboutitbecauseI'mnevernotsureaboutanything!" Hermione gasped for breath and clenched her jaw. Oliver's brain was working overtime. "Would you care to say it more slowly, Hermione?" His heart was skipping a million beats.

_  
Well it's out in the open now. Might as well say it. Might as well admit it. _Hermione took another deep breath, closed her eyes and said, "I did that because I was suddenly thinking of you differently, as in more than a friend.

And it bothered me that I liked you but I wasn't sure about it—my feelings towards you—because I'm never uncertain about anything so I guess I was confused and—and—" But she couldn't bear to continue any longer. She felt so humiliated, so degraded . . .

But Oliver gently took her hand. "I'm glad to know that, Hermione." Unbeknownst to her, Oliver had this huge, freakish smile plastered on his face. His heart was doing a million beats per second. He wanted to break out into a song.

"I'd like you to look at me, Hermione. Don't be ashamed. Please—I'd like for you to look at me." And she did, though very reluctantly. He smiled at her, and she was stunned. Did he—was it possible that he—?

"You see, Hermione, I feel the exact same way that you do. And I'm so relieved that you feel this way about me. I like you a great deal, you know. You're turning me into a madman." He laughed. Hermione's blood froze.

"I—I—you—I mean—"

But Oliver didn't need to hear it. Gently, he pulled her closer to him and wrapped her in an adoring embrace. She immediately reacted by burying her blood-red face in his chest, refusing to believe it, but wanting so much to.

"Oliver, I'm such a wretched person. I'm sorry to have put you in such a load of crap and—" Oliver held her tighter. "I know how you can make it up to me, though." And Hermione and Oliver stayed in a warm embrace until Oak found them and twittered on about the helepuffs who were in love.

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There you go! They've finally admitted it! squeals I feel so warm and fuzzy all over! I hope this chapter makes up for my lengthy hiatus! I'll write more! If you read more and review more! Haha:)**

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**If I have forgotten anyone, feel free to punch me in the face! (No, not really.) BUT I THANK ALL OF YOU SO DEEPLY! hands out candies THANK YOU! **

**Ps: I hope the spacing of this chapter is all right.**

**PPS: Next chapter is in the oven! **


	8. Bargaining with a hardheaded Wood

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.

REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now) Oh! But I own JASMINE and OAK and LUELLA and GEOFFREY

Chapter 8 – Bargaining with a hardheaded wood

.:.

During the ride home from the zoo, Oak no longer sat in the middle. Hermione and Oliver had to bribe him to sit in the end.

_Flashback_

"I'll give you ten chocolate frogs. I swear it." Oliver said. Oak shook his head. "No way am I gonna fall for that again, Ollie! Las' time you said that I only got _nine_!" Oliver frowned. "I WAS HUNGRY!"

Hermione intervened. "Oak, please listen. Oliver may not have kept his promise to you—"

"I WAS HUNGRY!"

"—but I will. I promise you a dozen chocolate frogs and some muggle candies." Hermione smiled down at him, but Oak was a smart kid. "How do I know that you aren't bluffin'?" Hermione shrugged. "You don't. You just have to trust me."

"Hmm. Why don' we forget 'bout the chocolate frogs?" Oak suggested. Hermione's eyes lit up but Oliver was suspicious. Oak never gave chocolate frogs up. "Oh, that's wonderful Oak! I—" but Oak silenced Hermione.

"You tell me what you were doin' hidden between the hotdog stand an' the loo all cozy, eh?"

Hermione and Oliver looked at each other, then at Oak. The boy had a wicked smile on his face. He was serious.

"Well," Hermione started. "We were . . .you see I was eating a hotdog and—"

"No, that isn't what happened at all, Hermione. Okay Oak. As your older brother, I shall set a good example for you and tell you the truth. Hermione lost her coat and she was feeling cold so naturally—"

"She didn't have a coat to begin with, Ollie."

"See here, Oak! If I say she had a coat, she had a coat! Now, as I was saying—"

"Your nose is growing, Ollie. I think it's sprouting leaves. You look like Pistachio."

"Pinocchio, Oak."

"_Whatever_."

"Will you just listen? Hermione was feeling cold and she asked me to keep her warm so I—"

"Liar, Liar, Voldie's Pliers!"

"_Liar, Liar pants on fire_."

"Liar, Liar V_oldie's pliers!_"

"_Liar, Liar pants on fire!_"

Hermione had had enough. "STOP IT, both of you!" She turned to Oliver. "I think Oak ought to know." Oliver looked aggravated. "Why? He's just a kid!" Oak threw him a nasty look. "I'm a smart boy! Mommy said so!"

"Yes, Oliver. Oak _is _smart. He's smarter than most children his age. I think he has a gut feeling or something. Just tell him." Hermione looked at Oliver sternly. He sighed. "Alright, you little bugger. See here's what happened; Hermione and I have—"

"Finally released your undying love for each other that you've kept inside for oh so long that it was driving you up the wall. I know, I know." Oak said. Oliver and Hermione were stunned. "You see Ollie," Oak said, coming up to the pair with his hands clasped together and a triumphant look on his angelic face. "I like to observe things. You may refer to me as Oak the Observer."

Oak grinned and was only a few feet away from Oliver and Hermione when he turned around and said, "I know you want me to sit at the side so you can hold hands and be all lovey-dovey. I don't think I can take that, so I shall sit with mommy in the front. I'm only six, you know."

_End flashback_

And indeed, Oak sat in front with Luella and Geoffrey as Hermione and Oliver discreetly held hands all throughout the ride home.

_At the Wood residence_

"It has been such a lovely day. I'm almost sorry to see it coming to an end." Geoffrey said, as he walked Luella and the children to the door. Luella smiled. "It doesn't have to end so soon. Won't you come in for milk and pie?"

Geoffrey shook his head. "I have an appointment in an hour. I'm sorry, love." He pecked Luella on the cheek. Oliver, Oak and Hermione made faces. Geoffrey glanced at Hermione. "But Hermione can stay, if she'd like. I'll pick her up after my appointment. How does that sound?"

Luella clapped her hands in delight and nodded. "Of course! Yes," she turned to Hermione. "Won't you stay, dear? Just for a little while?"

Hermione and Oliver exchanged looks. "Yes, I'd love to. Thank you, Luella."

The remaining four waved at Geoffrey got in the car and sped off. When he was out of sight, Luella smiled at the kids and ushered them inside.

It was Hermione's second time to be in the Wood house. She loved it there for she always felt a warm atmosphere. "Oliver, do show our guest to the living room while I prepare the snacks."

"Gladly." Oliver grinned at Hermione who, in turn, smiled up at him. Oak tagged along.

The three sat down on the massive sofa with Hermione in the middle of the two Woods. "Well isn't this something." Oak giggled. Oliver shot a threatening glance at his younger brother. "Not a word, Oakar Wood."

"I won't tell anyone." Oak promised. "Because _you _will. Mommy ought to know."

"NO!" Oliver and Hermione exclaimed. "Mother can't know!"

"And why not?" Oak folded his arms over his chest. "Never keep secrets from your family, Ollie." Oliver rolled his eyes. "Don't you see the awkwardness that will stir if we do tell?" Oak shook his head. "Not in the least."

Hermione cleared her throat. "If you tell your mother who is dating my father—" she trailed off, hoping Oak would catch on. "Then we'll all be a happy family!" Oak said. Oliver's jaw dropped. "I can't believe you can't see it, Oak!"

"Oak," Hermione began. "That's just it. We _can't _be a happy family." Oliver nodded in agreement. Oak stuck his tongue out at them. "You're just being stupid, that's all. If I were in love, I'd tell mommy. She'd be happy for me, I know it."

"But—"

"I'll never tell _you _if I've got a lady of my own, Ollie. You'll be the last to know, and you'll feel so terrible about it. You'll come crying to me and saying 'Oh Oak, why didn't you tell me? I feel hurt!' but I won't feel sorry for you at all." With that, Oak stalked off to his room. After a few moments, Oliver and Hermione heard a loud bang.

"That was an interesting display of behavior." Hermione commented. Oliver shrugged. Then they heard Oak open the door and shout, "And you'll have to spill the rutabagas sooner or later or you'll be in a tight fix!" then the door slammed shut again.

The pair didn't think much of the six year olds last comment, but little did they know that the boy was right.

_Next day, at the Granger Residence_

As Hermione dreamt of Oliver in her cozy bed, Geoffrey and Jasmine were having a rather heated debate downstairs.

"Do you love her?"

"Of course, mother! Luella is the most fascinating woman to ever grace this planet with—"

"Spare me, dear."

"But mother, I thought you liked Luella!"

"I do, Geoffrey! But it's just so soon!"

"Of course not! Ever since the divorce I've been so harried but when I bumped into Luella is was as if—as if we were _meant _to be together!"

"Geoffrey, please! Do think about this!"

"I _have_ thought it over, mother, and I _know _this is what I want. And if Luella agrees, then—"

"What about Hermione?"

"What about her? She loves Luella! She gets along great with the boys—"

"Have you considered about how your only daughter might feel about your decision?"

"Well . . .no but—"

"Geoffrey Callahan Granger, how can you expect that Hermione will agree to every decision you make? Surely you have to sit her down and tell her before you do anything! Her opinion is important!"

"I _will_!"

"When? I know you to be a procrastinator, Geoffrey."

"I will, alright? Just let me handle my own daughter. I'll talk to her about it, but not anytime soon!"

"Oh, you'd better make it soon! If you don't _I _will tell her!"

"Mother! Sometimes you're just so—"

"Still your tongue, Geoffrey, and I may spare your life." Jasmine said fiercely. Geoffrey scowled.

"Now go and prepare breakfast, Geoffrey. I think Hermione's awaken."

**

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****Not much of a chapter here, but not to worry! The next will be so much better! I bet you're all wondering what Geoffrey and Jasmine were arguing about, eh? Haha! You'll see! **

**THANK YOU TO ALL MY REVIEWERS! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!**


	9. Proposals and first kisses

DISCLAIMER: yes, this is a disclaimer.

REAL DISCLAIMER: I don't CLAIM to own any of the HARRY POTTER characters in DIS story. (Get it? DIS? CLAIMER? Disclaimer? HAHAHAHAHAHA! Okay, I'll shut up now) Oh! But I own JASMINE and OAK and LUELLA and GEOFFREY

Chapter 9 – Proposals and first kisses

_

* * *

If in case I failed to mention, The Grangers and the Woods are fairly wealthy, and they come from the same social class/status, if you will.

* * *

_

The Grangers and the Woods were together yet again, this time at the Granger house. Oak was swimming with Jasmine in a whale-shaped pool while Oliver and Hermione strolled around the neighborhood.

It had been three weeks ever since Hermione and Oliver had laid all their cards on the table, and they felt pretty good. Hermione was particularly glad that Oliver wasn't all mushy on her—that he took it slow with her. She liked that, and so did he.

Right now, they walked side-by-side, hands occasionally coming in contact accompanied with butterflies in their stomachs. Oliver would often sneak glances at Hermione and when she'd catch him, she'd smile and playfully try to pinch his nose.

He would respond by bending down and playfully attempt to bite her. Oliver and Hermione enjoyed each other's company and playful manner.

They ended up at the park (how cliché). Hermione took Oliver's hand in her own and led him to a bench near a fountain. They sat down.

"Nice Park." Oliver said. Hermione nodded. "I use to come here a lot with my grandmother. We'd often sit right here and just stare at the fountain."

Oliver looked over at the fountain. He smiled. It reminded him a lot of his house, Gryffindor. The fountain was a marble lion sprouting water from its mouth.

Hermione wondered what Oliver was smiling at. She followed his gaze, and her eyes landed on the fountain. "Reminds you of Hogwarts, doesn't it?" she asked.

"Yeah." Oliver lightly stroked the palm of her hand. "I miss the place. Lucky you, you've got a full three years left to go. Make the best of it, hear?"

Hermione laughed. "I can't say I won't. Hogwarts is like a second home to me." Oliver nodded. "I feel that way too."

A comfortable silence followed as nostalgia took over Oliver Wood. Hermione took this as a chance to study him.

Oliver had a nice build . . .lean, tall and with good posture. His facial features were pleasant and he looked innocent, just like Oak.

_He's so sincere . . .so genuine. I still can't get over the fact that I'm here, with him, my hand in his. Merlin, am I lucky… _Hermione's lips formed a smile as she thought this. Then, Oliver tore his gaze away from the fountain and focused it on Hermione. He smiled too.

So there they sat, Oliver and Hermione, engrossed in their own thoughts, yet absorbed in each other as well.

_Meanwhile…_

Luella and Geoffrey were sitting in the Living room, watching TV and drinking wine. Luella had her head on Geoffrey's shoulder, and he had his arm around her.

Luella was pretty comfortable, but Geoffrey wasn't. He'd been mentally rehearsing day and night how he would go about it.

With his free hand, he put it in his pocket and began to feel around for a small box. When he found it, he wrapped his fingers around the box and bit his lip. It was now or never.

Grabbing the remote control and shutting off the television, he grabbed Luella by the shoulders and pulled her into a passionate kiss. After the kiss, Luella breathlessly stared at him in shock. Clearly, she was not expecting this.

"Luella, _I love you_." Geoffrey announced, his voice husky. Luella blinked several times. "Geoffrey—" but he cut her off with another steamy kiss.

"I want to be with you. Every moment without you is a moment wasted. . .you bring so much mirth into my life, so much joy. You're everything I've looked for in a woman, and so much more. Darling," he took her hands in his.

"I care so much for you. You mean everything to me. I love you and your sons. Please," he said, as Luella tried to cut in. "Please know that I want to be with you every day of my life. I want to share every second with you. I want to rejoice when you are happy, I want to lend you my shoulder to cry on when you are miserable, I want to help you through all of your trials. I know it's so sudden but I—I want to—" Geoffrey whipped out the tiny box from his pocket and knelt down. Luella gasped.

"Will you do me the honor of being my wife, Luella Wood?"

* * *

"Is that your stomach growling?" Hermione joked. Oliver chuckled. "I have to admit, I didn't eat much." 

"What say we head back? It's getting a little chilly—"

"Is that a hint?" Oliver asked, a sly grin spreading all over his face. "Want me to warm you up?" Hermione blushed furiously. "N-no! I was merely stating a fact! It _is _cold!" But Oliver's grin just kept getting bigger and bigger.

"Oliver Wood, don't you _dare _get cocky with me—" Hermione warned, wagging a finger at him. "C'mere, honey." Oliver said, licking his lips. Hermione's eyes widened.

"O-Oliver Wood! If you take any step closer, I'll—I'll put a spell on you!" Hermione said, trying in vain to sound threatening. Oliver grabbed her arm and pulled her close. "You already have," he whispered.

Hermione eyes grew bigger and bigger as Oliver's face drew nearer and nearer. Just when his lips were inches away from hers, she shut her eyes tight and braced herself.

Hermione opened one eye. Oliver hadn't kissed her! So what—? Then she heard laughing. Hermione gasped, as Oliver doubled over, slapping his knee.

"You should've seen yourself, Hermione! You were 'No, Oliver, No!' and I was—HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—I was. . .I was. . ." Oliver trembled with laughter. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Hermione's blood started to boil. How _dare _he trick her! How _dare _he make her look like a _fool_! Oliver was _so _busy laughing that he failed to notice Hermione's fists balling up.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You were—I was—MERLIN! That was—HAHAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you—"

**WAM!**

"AUGHHHHHHHH!" Oliver stumbled backwards, clutching his stomach. "Merlin!" he moaned. Hermione smirked, and rubbed her hand. "That hurt, but it was SO worth it."

"_What was that for_!" Oliver cried, still clutching his stomach. Hermione set her hands on her hips and glared at Oliver. "That was for making me anticipate a kiss." Oliver stared incredulously at Hermione. Realizing what she had just said, she clapped her hands over her mouth and turned pink.

Oliver's eyebrows disappeared under his hairline. "You want a kiss, then?"

"N-no! I most certainly do _not_—I have no idea where that came from! Don't you get any ideas, Wood! I didn't—" But Hermione never got to finish, because Oliver's lips brushed against hers for a brief but intoxicating moment.

When Oliver pulled away, he looked kind of sheepish. "S-sorry, I—"

Hermione gulped. She felt so lightheaded. . .so giddy. How could a boy make her feel this way? Passing her exams made her feel this way, but never a boy. But then again, Oliver wasn't just _any _boy. He was _her _boy, and that made her feel a hundred times better than passing her exams.

_In the meantime…_

Luella gaped at Geoffrey. She couldn't believe it . . .was he truly on his knees, holding out a dazzling engagement ring? Was he really asking her to marry him? What would she say? She liked Geoffrey a lot . . .possibly even loved him but—two months of dating? Just two months. It was so sudden  
so . . .

But she _did _love him. Yes, she was sure of it now. He was so wonderful, such a kind and loving man who was so earnest in everything that he said and did. But Luella never acted impulsively, though. So what would she do?

"But Geoffrey, it's so abrupt I—"

"We could move in together . . .to get a feel of it . . .move in the whole family." He looked at her with big, hopeful eyes. She couldn't turn him down, no, she couldn't. But—But—what was holding her back? He was so wonderful.

"We could have a long engagement—and if you have second thoughts then we could break it off, I guess—" he rambled on. She gazed at him adoringly. _Take a risk. _

"Geoffrey," he said, putting as finger against his lips. "Yes."

* * *

**OH. MY. GOSH. He's proposed! She said yes! OH MY OH MY OH MY! And Ollie gave Herm her FIRST EVER kiss (Even if it _was _a quick one). I hope no one finds this rushed. :( If you do, please tell me! How will the kids take it! MY, MY, MY, OH MY! I'm so excited! I can't wait to see what happens! Wait—_I'm _the author! I should know what happens! Haha! I'm so happy! WHEEE! runs around in squares Thought I'd do circles, eh? WHEEEEEEE! I'M SO EXCITED! I THINK I'LL GO WRITE THE NEXT CHAPTER!**

**THANK YOU LOVELY REVIEWERS! I've got no time to thank you personally! I'VE JUST GOT TO DO THE NEXT CHAPTER! You all understand, I hope? WHEEEE! **


	10. How could you!

Disclaimer: The plot, and the characters that you might not recognize belong to me. The rest, however, belong to J.K.R.

Chapter 10 – How could you?

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The Grangers and the Woods were all seated at the table, famished. Jasmine began serving the food—French onion soup, potato salad, and roast beef. The Wood boys looked ready to attack the beef. Oak was bouncing up and down on his seat. "Let's say grace so we can eat!" Oliver smacked his little brother. "Patience, Oak." But Oliver himself was just a hungry as Oak.

"Alright. Hermione, will you lead us, please?" Jasmine asked. Hermione nodded and they all said grace. Geoffrey clapped his hands together and rubbed them, eyeing the food eagerly. "Let's dig in!"

With that said, the boys began piling food onto their plates as if their lives depended on it. Well…technically their lives _did _depend on food. Hermione watched, perplexed, as Oliver and Oak wolfed down their food. It was amazing. Their spoons were going in and out of their mouths a hundred per minute, so to speak.

It wasn't only Hermione who noticed the boys' ravenous behavior. Luella clucked her tongue and lightly whacked Oliver's arm. "Slowly but surely, dear. You don't want to choke, now, do you?" Oliver suddenly stopped. His eyes were fixed on his mother's hand…on her third finger. A sparkling engagement ring was sitting on it, glistening. It wasn't there before and Oliver didn't remember seeing it before.

"Mother, what's that?"

Luella raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side. "What's what, dear?"

"That." Oliver pointed at the ring with his spoon. It's contents spilled back onto his plate. Luella looked down at her hand and gasped. "Oh. This." Then she cast an inquiring look at Geoffrey. He nodded and smiled.

"Mother…?"

"Children, Mother, I have an announcement to make." Geoffrey said, standing. Luella stood up as well. "We—we're engaged and—"

"WHAT!" Hermione blurted out. At the same time, Oliver practically choked on food. Oak's spoon fell from his hand and onto the floor. Luella bit her lip. "W-well…aren't you happy?"

"HAPPY!" Hermione shrieked. Geoffrey paled. "Yes—" Oliver's choking cut him off. "E-engaged…who?…you and…mother?" This was _not _going well. Not in the least. Geoffrey nodded, though he looked a bit nauseas. "Yes. Won't that be great?"

"_Great_?" Hermione asked, incredulously. She shot a look at Oliver. He looked like he was constipated. Hermione wasn't aware that Jasmine had put her arm around her with what seemed like a look of pity. "Hermione, dear, won't you settle down? This is wonderful news!" But Jasmine herself, didn't sound as tickled pink as she had hoped. In fact, Jasmine was seething. How _dare _Geoffrey not discuss this with Hermione? It was bad enough that the man was lovesick, but goodness! Marriage already! Jasmine wasn't sure if Geoffrey was still hurt over the separation, and was using this as a diversion. She _knew _Geoffrey would forget. She _knew _he wouldn't talk to Hermione until after he'd announce it. Jasmine felt so infuriated that for a moment, the pleasant expression she had put on turned harsh.

"Yes, well, we're not going to get married at once, you see," Geoffrey was babbling. But all Hermione could hear was her own blood pounding in her ears. She was, by now, visibly shaking. "And we thought we'd move in together…everyone, of course. To, you know, get a feel of being one big happy family."

"_Move in_? _Together_!" Oliver gasped. Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh no. _Oh bloody no_. Oak's eyebrows virtually disappeared under his hairline, his mouth agape. He hadn't said a word since Luella had announced their engagement. He was either too shocked, or dead on the spot. It was hard to tell, really.

"Yes, Oliver, t-to get a feel of it…" Geoffrey was sweating now. Luella squeezed his hand. "You should be happy, Oliver. You yourself told me it was time to move on—"

"I most certainly was _not _the one who told you that—"

"—and I followed _your _advice. I've found myself a good man—"

"I did _not _suggest it was time for you to move on, mother! You must have me confused with someone else—"

"—And I'm so glad that you approve of my engagement to Geoffrey."

"I do n—" Oliver stopped. Everyone was staring at him: Geoffrey with large, hopeful eyes, his mother with a venomous glare, Hermione with a chalk-white face, Oak still with his mouth agape, and Jasmine, tight-lipped. If Oliver said that he immensely disliked his mother being engaged to his almost-girlfriend's father, it would earn him a permanent cell in Azkaban, courtesy of Luella. Yet, Oliver wanted so much to scream exactly that. He wanted to tell her what a horrible idea it was. He wanted to tell her of Hermione and their relationship. He wanted, yes, but he couldn't. Oliver frowned. He was being too self-centered. His mother deserved as much happiness as he did, and if that happiness came from Geoffrey, so be it.

"I—I do _not _want you to think that I don't approve," Oliver said, without much enthusiasm. "Congratulations, mother. Congratulations, Geoffrey." Luella smiled and went over to hug her son. Geoffrey grabbed a tissue and wiped the beads of sweat off of his forehead. Oak, Hermione and Jasmine's expressions were indecipherable. Oliver hugged his mother back in resignation. "It means so much to me that you support this, Ollie." Luella said. Oliver gave her a weak smile.

* * *

Geoffrey and Luella had seated Hermione, Oliver, Oak and Jasmine down on the couch. "As I have said earlier, we've planned to move in together. We thought about where, and we've decided upon…the wood house." Geoffrey explained. Oliver shot a look at his mother. She avoided his gaze. "It's…it's big enough for all of us. We considered living here, but this place isn't big enough to house six people. It only has three rooms, and we can't very well have…" Geoffrey looked a little uncomfortable. "…boys staying in a girl's room." At this, Hermione turned a little red, but Oliver didn't know if it was because she was embarrassed at the thought, or furious with her father up till now.

"So you've decided to move us into the Wood house?" Hermione said, her tone icy. She knew she shouldn't be so nasty, but she couldn't help it. She was too upset to care. Her father nodded. "That is, if the boys don't mind." He gave Oak and Oliver a smile. Oliver had to will himself to smile extra hard. Oak just blinked. "I'm sure they'd love it, won't you, boys?" Luella asked, something in her tone of voice suggesting threat. Oak suddenly brightened up. "Of course, mister Ginger. You're all welcome to stay at our place!" Luella beamed at him. Oak smiled back, totally ignoring the daggers Oliver was staring at him with. Luella clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, I'm so thrilled! Hermione, you're going to be the daughter I never had!" As Luella suffocated Hermione in an exaggerated bear hug, Oliver felt a lump on his throat. _Hermione's going to be my sister!_

When Oliver, Oak and Luella had left, Hermione instantly let out a long, loud shriek. Jasmine pursed her lips, knowing what was to come. Seeing her granddaughter's fuming face, Jasmine decided that perhaps she _did _have some feeling left for Geoffrey after all…pity.

"W-well, we'll all be moving in next week. I'm still looking for a buyer for this house but…" Geoffrey never got to finish.

"_How could you_!" Hermione hissed. Geoffrey gave her a wounded look, but Hermione was too enraged to notice it. "You never mentioned it to me!" Jasmine went into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of champagne. This was going to be one heck of a show.

Geoffrey tried to look nonchalant, but to no avail. "Hermione, I _am _a grown man and I can make my own decisions." His daughter's expression only turned nastier. "I'm well aware of that, but we _always_ talk about _everything_. Tell me…why couldn't you talk to me about _this_?"

"I—"

"Didn't you consider my feelings at all? Didn't you think I'd probably have something to say about it? Were you too _obsessed_ with Luella and you're engagement—" Hermione practically spat the word 'engagement' out, as if it left a horrid taste in her mouth.

"Hermione Granger, how _dare _you be so disrespectful! I am your father!"

"And I'm your daughter! How dare _you _disregard _my _opinion! How dare _you _disrespect _my _thoughts on this! I cannot believe that you went on and got engaged without _my _consent—"

"I don't need your consent! I am an adult!"

Silence.

Jasmine sipped her drink. Geoffrey shouldn't have said what he just said. Hermione considered herself to be very important in Geoffrey's life. And through the years, Geoffrey had made her feel as significant. But to suddenly say that he didn't _need _her consent, or that he didn't think her views important, especially on something this big…Jasmine shook her head. He was an idiot, to put it simply. Finally, Hermione spoke.

"Well," she said, her voice deathly low. "Now I know where I stand." Geoffrey was at a loss. His daughter…his _only _daughter…she'd been there for him when he was in his worst state. She had stood by him, supported him. And now he had said—no, _implied _that she wasn't important at all in his life. He, too, knew he was an idiot.

"Hermione, I'm so very sorry. That didn't come our right…" Hermione just turned her back, and walked calmly out on him. Without a single glance back.

**Wood residence**

Oliver was too shocked, too angry, to talk to his mother, or look at her at all. Sure, he wanted her to be happy but good wizards! Marriage! It was unthinkable! What's more, Oak seemed to be supporting it, and that only drew Oliver nearer to the edge.

Once at home, Oliver headed straight for his room and locked it, not caring if Oak slept in the living room that night. His mother had tried several times to talk to him, but he had either turned up the stereo or completely ignored her.

He lay on his bed, music blaring from the stereo. It was country, his most hated genre of music, but he didn't care. He stared at the ceiling, thinking of ways to make his mother miserable. And then he caught himself. He cursed out loud (Luella had heard and banged on the door) for thinking such things, for being so selfish. His father had always said that gentlemen did _not _think maliciously towards woman. Especially one's own mother. Oliver felt ashamed. His father always said he was a perfect little gentleman, and everyone else seemed to think so. Well technically, he was.  
Always doing the right thing, rescuing "damsels in distress", always so polished and courteous, respectful, earnest, noble…the list could go on and on. Oliver, for the first time, wished that he wasn't such a gentleman. He wished he could be more like that dope Malfoy, or maybe even Marcus Flint, that sorry excuse for a quidditch captain.

A knock. Oliver reached out and turned up the volume. Another knock. Then another. Oliver grit his teeth in annoyance. He willed himself not to open the door, but his accursed gentlemanly instincts were overpowering him. Reluctantly (and resentfully), he got up and opened the door. Luella stood before him, an imperious air about her. Oliver hated it when she got like this. "What?" he snapped. His mother strode into his room and shut off the stereo. "I was listening to that," he grumbled. Luella let out a high-pitched "Hah!". "You despise country music." Oliver cursed under his breath.

"Oliver, we are going to have a discussion," Luella began. Oliver rolled his eyes childishly. "Oh, whoopee. What did I do to deserve such a treat?" But Luella didn't find it amusing at all. "Don't you get cheeky with me," she warned. "You're seventeen, not a child."

At that moment, Oak came into the room. Oliver groaned loudly and exaggeratedly. Oak ignored him and sat on his bed. "What did you want to talk about, mommy?" he asked. Luella straightened her dress and sat down beside Oak, expecting Oliver to follow suit. Oliver crossed his arms over her chest. He wasn't three anymore, and he wasn't going to have a discussion seated on his mother's side like he used to when he was a kid. He was an adult—almost an adult—and he demanded to be treated like one.

"Sit." Luella barked. Oliver remained standing. "Suits me fine, then. It's going to be a long discussion, and it's up to you if you want to be uncomfortable." Oliver didn't reply.

"Now boys," Luella began, in a softer tone. " I understand that you are surprised at this sudden engagement, but please understand that I love Geoffrey. He's such a wonderful man, and I couldn't refuse him if I tried." Oak simply nodded. Oliver snorted. "I've already accepted his proposal and you can't do anything about it any longer. Also, the Grangers are going to be moving in next week. I want you to show proper respect, and _cooperate_." She stared directly at Oliver. He glared back.

"The Gingers are coming to live with us, mommy?" Oak asked. Luella nodded. "It'll be good for all of us. I've often felt that this house was too big for only the three of us, and it will be splendid to have more company. Now," Luella pursed her lips. "Any questions? Suggestions? _Violent reactions_?"

"I'm sorry to cut this family meeting short, but I feel that my views will be disregarded even if I do voice them out. I'm sure Oak has some questions or whatever. You can talk to him." Oliver said. Luella's jaw dropped. "Never have you been so rude!"

"Never have you been so foolish."

"_Foolish_?"

"Goodbye mother. I'm going to take a walk. Don't bother to wait up, I'll be out late." And with that, Oliver turned on his heel and left.

* * *

When Oliver was still a boy, he'd often go for walks to look at the stars. It sounded gay, he knew, but he did it anyway. It helped him organize his thoughts, clear his head and rid himself of any insecurity he might have. That was more than six years ago, and Oliver still took walks from time to time for more or less the same reasons.

But tonight, tonight was a different story. Oliver wasn't walking to think, or to clear his head. He was walking because he just wanted to _get out_. And he was seething. Seething like one of Snape's potions gone wrong.

He ran a hand through his thick brown hair and let out a heavy sigh. "I know where to go," he muttered. With a faint pop, Oliver had apparated out of sight.

* * *

Fred Weasely was seated in a large, comfortable, velvety chair in front of a crackling fire. It was quite nice, for once, to be alone with his thoughts. The whole house was, thankfully, asleep and George was out on a blind date. Fred let out a soft chuckle at this last thought. George would be receiving a big surprise; Lee and Fred had set him up with Millicent Bulstrode as a joke. "Ah well," Fred chortled. He'd be receiving an earful the next morning.

As Fred reached for his white wine (yes, Fred drank white wine), he heard a soft pop from behind his chair. Fred's fingers wrapped around the glass. He took a sip.

"Care for a drink, Oliver?" he said calmly. He heard a snort. "I've butterbeer if you don't like white wine."

"The day you drink white wine for leisure is the day George professes his love for a slytherin." Oliver replied. Fred, who was still gazing at the fire, gestured at an empty chair beside him, and raised his glass. Oliver's eyes widened.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Oliver?"

"Cut the crap, Fred."

"Hermione?"

"How did you know?"

"It's evident."

"I won't ask you how it is."

"Fair enough."

Fred took another sip. Oliver snorted again. "So. What's new?" Fred asked, handing Oliver a butterbeer. "I'll go straight to the point." Fred nodded. "You do that."

Oliver drained his butterbeer in one gulp. "Hermione's going to be my sister."

Fred took another sip of his wine and set the glass down, gently. "Well that's certainly news. You'll have a brilliant witch for a—" Fred's eyes widened. "_A sister_!"

Oliver rolled his eyes. Fred's cool composure had vanished. He was staring at Oliver, his mouth opening and closing. "What—why—how—when—who—Hermione—you—"

"My mother's marrying her dad."

"WHAT!"

"Yeah. And get this, they're moving into my place."

"WHY?"

"To get a feel of being a family."

"Crap!"

Oliver sighed. "Funny, how these things end up. So I guess all hope of ever having a romantic relationship with Hermione is gone." Oliver looked at Fred, who now looked determined.  
"Don't be nutty, man! Of _course _you can have a romantic relationship if you wanted!" Oliver grunted in reply. Fred nodded vigorously. "I'm serious! It's not like you're blood related—"

"That's incestuous, nevertheless. It doesn't _matter _if we aren't related through blood. The fact that her father is marrying my mother—"

"_Doesn't matter_."

Oliver stared hard at Fred. He was being stupid. "Again, Fred, I repeat. The fact that our parents are marrying each other makes us _related_ and you most certainly _cannot_—it's dishonorable—to have a romantic relationship with someone to whom you are related to!" But Fred shook his head stubbornly, and this irritated Oliver further.

"You, man, are giving up. There's always another way—"

"_There is no other alternative_! She's going to be my sister and that is that!"

Oliver had slammed his empty bottle of butterbeer on a nearby table making Fred jump. Oliver groaned and buried his face in his hands. "This sucks as much as having to lose to hufflepuff…"

Fred cleared his throat. Oliver looked up. "Have you ever considered that there might _not _be a wedding?" Oliver frowned. "What do you mean? Of course there'll be a wedding…"

"Unless…"

"Unless what, Fred?"

"Unless you do something about it."

Oliver looked shocked for a moment. "Fred! I could never do that! My mother would have my head…! Why, she'd—" But Fred clucked his tongue and wagged a finger at Oliver. "Never said _you _were going to do something about it." Oliver frowned. "What? You just told me 'unless you do something about it'—"

"Tcha! People make mistakes!" But Fred had a mischievous gleam in his eyes. Oliver shook his head firmly. "_No_. You are not going to sabotage my mother's happiest moment."

Fred gave a long laugh and poured himself another glass of white wine. "Oh Oliver, chum. All's well that ends well! You never know what sort of…interferences…might occur."

Oliver decided that Fred was doing anything but helping him. He stood up, as did Fred. "Thanks for…the butterbeer and the—if not helpful—sort of comforting words." The two gentlemen shook hands, and Oliver departed feeling more at loss than ever.

* * *

YAY! I'm back! I'm sorry for the long wait! School's been eating up all of my free time. But anyway, I know this was a suck-y ending to this chapter so I'm going to make it up by giving you all loads of Oliver and Hermione action in the next chapter. Whee!

Oh yeah! So I've read the sixth book and stuff…I know this fic is **SO **out of the whole thing but yeah, I'm continuing it anyway! Thanks to all my pretty reviewers! I'm sorry for the long wait, hope you haven't given up on me!


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